t          THE 

MILLIONAIRESS 


* 


JULIAN  RALPH 


*     The    ** 
Millionairess 


•TTHE   MILLIONAIRESS 


*    The   ** 
Millionairess 

BY    JULIAN    RALPH 


ILLUSTRATED 

BY    C.    F.    UNDERWOOD 


t 


LOTHROP      PUBLISHING 
COMPANY      •       BOSTON 


COPYRIGHT, 

1902, 
BY 

L  O  T  H  R  O  P 
PUB  L I SH I NG 
COMPANY. 

ENTERED  AT 
STATIONERS'  HALL 

ALL  RIGHTS    RESERVED 

Published,  Sept.,   1902 


TO    MY   MO  TH E  R 


2137843 


Contents 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

/.  Ordering  an  Ad-venture  for  One          .         .       n 

II.  The  Rendezvous  on  the  Roof       .         .         .21 

///.  At  the  Sill  of  the  Boozer's  Door          .         .       28 

IV.  In    Which    Some    Characters    Take    Their 

Places     .......       45 

V.  Beautiful,    Rich,    Lovable — Yet    Almost 

Alone      .         .         .         .         .         .         .55 

VI.  The  Maid  and  Her  Money          ...       68 

VII.  The  New  Gospel  of  Smoke          .         .         .77 

VIII.  Her  Views  upon  Society      ....       89 

IX.  "You  Are  Also  Guilty"      .         .         .         .106 

X.  Testing  a  Crusader's  Sword       .         .         .120 

XI.  A  Faint  Sound  of  Cupid's  Wings      .         .     132 

XII.  Bryan  Cross's  Exposure  of  "  Society"         .     146 

XIII.  Like  a  Lily  on  an  Altar     .         .         .         .166 

XIV.  The  Hunger  of  a  Lonesome  Heart      .         .     1 76 

XV.  Cupid  Bungles  a  Little       .         .         .        .187 

XVI.  Laura  Meets  the  Van  Ness  Sisters      .         .     208 

XVII.  Bryan  Cross  Appeals  for  Rescue         .         .221 

XVIII.  Transforming  a  Fair  Barbarian         .         .237 

XIX.  Miss  Tony's  Confession       .         .         .         .251 

XX.  A  Glimpse  of  the  Upper  Ten       .         .         .264 

XXI.  The  Fringe  of  Society          .         .         .         .276 

XXII.  The  Skeleton  at  the  Feast  .         .         .         .287 

XXIII.  Enter :  One  of  Unsavoury  Repute      .         .     309 


Contents 


CHAPTER 

XXIV. 
XXV. 
XXVI. 
XXVII. 
XXVIII. 
XXIX. 
XXX. 

The  Wrecking  of  Bryan  Cross 
Love  and  a  Robber  Both  Break  in    . 
Beekman  Scores  a  Failure 
The  Mysterious  Burglar  Caught 
Diluting  a  Sensation 
A  Message  for  Bryan  Cross 
Happy  Captives  of  Love  .        .        . 

PAGE 
.         322 
•         342 
•         358 
•        370 
.        382 
.        4OO 
.        410 

**    Illustrations    ** 

PAGE 

The  Millionairess      .....        Frontispiece 

"  '  I  am  to  know  you  better  than  I  know,  or  ever  knew, 

man  or  woman  on  earth "'  .         .         .         -53 

" '  You  have  made  a  great  stir,  have1  nt  you  f''  .     121 

"  Here  she  lifted  a  foot  and  slowly  moved  it  far  for- 
ward"        ,         .         .         .         .         .         .         .219 

"  She  sat  swinging  her  feet  and  looking  down  at  Mr. 

Stone" 353 

"  He  kissed  her  lightly,  and  the  touch  of  his  lips  on 

her  brow  lifted  her  soul" 421 


The 


»* 

Millionairess 
i. 

ORDERING   AN 
ADVENTURE  FOR    ONE 

"  Why,  I,  in  this  weak,  piping  time  of  peace, 
Have  no  delight  to  pass  away  the  time."  —  Richard  III. 

rHERE  is  a  queer  little  German  restaurant 
in  William  Street,  near  the  Brooklyn 
Bridge  —  in  New  York  —  which  is  a  per- 
fect reproduction  of  the  typical  tavern  of  a 
small  Fatherland  village.  In  it,  not  long  ago, 
sat  two  noted  writers  for  the  newspapers.  The 
one  was  Colin  Chester,  round,  rosy,  double- 
chinned,  all  and  always  in  black,  suggesting  the 
well-fed  priest  by  face  and  form  and  frock,  and 
tidy,  almost  soapily,  clean.  The  other  was 
Courtlandt  Beekman,  who  was  slender,  tall,  and 
commanding  in  both  face  and  build.  Further 
distinguishing  a  face  whose  shape  was  the  product 

ii 


The  Millionairess 


of  generations  of  refinement,  were  steady,  grey 
eyes  between  a  lofty  brow  and  a  square  chin.  He 
dressed  like  an  Englishman,  which  is  to  say  al- 
ways comfortably,  and  was  now  wearing  a  loung- 
ing suit  of  loose  reddish  tweed.  Both  men  would 
have  denied  what  I  have  said  of  their  position  as 
writers,  but,  to  begin  again  with  Chester,  every 
newspaper  man  and  thousands  of  others  so 
insisted  ;  and  they  knew  and  were  right.  He 
was  both  a  political  writer  and  a  considerable 
force  in  politics,  not  unused  to  being  asked  by 
statesmen  for  advice,  and  not  beneath  command- 
ing, and  even  disciplining,  them  when  he  thought 
best. 

Beekman  was  of  another  sort.  He  was  great 
in  newspaperdom  only  because  he  had  performed 
two  or  three  notable  feats  in  that  profession  — 
reporting  a  revolution  in  South  America,  an  inter- 
view with  the  Czar,  a  study  of  the  Armenian  ques- 
tion, and  another  of  the  plague  in  the  Far  East. 
In  fact,  he  was  a  rich  young  bachelor  of  thirty- 
two,  given  to  amusing  himself  with  serious  under- 
takings in  exploration,  big  game  shooting,  and,  as 
he  would  say,  "  spying  upon  his  neighbours,"  by 
which  he  meant  travelling  and  observing  his  fel- 

12 


The  Millionairess 


low  men  in  the  largest  sense.  If  he  was  a  jour- 
nalist it  was  only  because  the  others  were  proud 
to  reckon  him  such.  Journalists  do  not  keep  a 
town  house  in  New  York,  a  ranch  in  California, 
chambers  in  London,  a  yacht,  and  a  broker. 
Beekman  did.  Other  journalists  are  not  in  the 
"  Four  Hundred,"  at  home  in  the  Carlton  Club  in 
London,  asked  to  put  up  at  "  Government  House  " 
whenever  they  stop  in  their  travels,  and  on  the 
friendliest  terms  with  the  Whistlers,  Sardous, 
Roseberys,  Ibsens,  Rostands,  Lenbachs,  Kip- 
lings,  and  men  of  cultivation  and  renown  every- 
where. Beekman  was.  Yet  he  and  Chester  were 
great  friends,  touching  each  other  at  a  dozen  sym- 
pathetic points,  and  frank  as  boys  with  one  an- 
other. 

"  Do  you  want  an  adventure?  "  It  was  Chester 
who  spoke. 

"  There  is  none  to  be  had  —  not  this  side  of 
Fez,"  Beekman  replied. 

"  Some  friends  of  mine,"  continued  Chester, 
"  the  nicest  people  I  know,  have  a  dining-club. 
which  is  a  mere  expression  of,  or  sort  of  charging 
battery  for,  a  camaraderie  unlike  any  other  which 
I  know  in  America.  The  men  are  all  distin- 

13 


The  Millionairess 


guished  and  successful  in  various  professional 
walks  of  life,  are  all  well-informed  and  broad  and 
interesting.  Well-to-do  and  refined  Bohemians 
—  that  is  what  they  are.  And  their  wives  match 
them.  They  are  as  much  in  the  thing  as  the  men. 
We  number  nine  or  ten  couples,  and  only  two 
unmarried  members." 

"  It  sounds  —  " 

"  Never  mind  how  it  sounds.  A  very  great 
lawyer  is  one.  An  architect  of  note  is  another, 
a  sculptor  known  all  over  the  world  is  a  third. 
I  can  name  no  names,  but  you  will  know  of  them 
if  you  do  not  know  them.  They  are  the  very 
best,  I  tell  you.  Well,  their  peculiarity  is  that 
they  take  their  rest  and  fun  and  pleasure  together. 
They  all  go  to  the  theatre  in  a  party.  They  take 
their  holidays  together  —  in  the  woods,  by  some 
lonely  lake  in  Minnesota,  in  some  little  village  in 
Maine  —  anywhere  to  be  by  themselves,  for  they 
are  as  much  as  a  cityful  when  they  are  in  force, 
so  far  as  fun  goes.  No  woman  is  any  man's  wife 
when  she  is  with  the  club ;  that  is  to  say,  she  and 
her  husband  are  finable  if  seen  together.  So  we 
pair  off  in  new  couples,  twice  a  day  perhaps,  all 
trusting  one  another  so  much  that  our  trustfulness 

14 


The  Millionairess 


never  occurs  to  us.  We  know  books,  pictures, 
music  —  whatever  is  worth  while.  There  is  not 
a  fool  in  the  club.  I  want  you  to  join." 

"  As  the  missing  fool?  " 

"  Don't  try  to  be  one.  Listen.  I  ask  you  to 
join.  The  others  desire  it,  but,  not  knowing  you, 
cannot  invite  you." 

"  It  sounds  —  "  Beekman  began. 

"  Damn  how  it  sounds.  Will  you  join,  if  only 
as  a  favour  to  me?  " 

"  It  sounds  interesting/'  said  Beekman,  "  but 
I  am  only  here  an  occasional  week  or  two  in  an 
occasional  year." 

"  I  know,  but  you  want  to  keep  up  with  what's 
going  on,  and  to  be  in  whatever's  the  best.  This 
costs  you  nothing  when  you  are  away.  Each  of 
us  pays  only  for  what  he  actually  gets.  I  tell 
you,  these  people  are  the  very  best.  Perhaps  you 
will  be  in  New  York  more  often  if  you  make  one 
of  us." 

"  Never  mind  more  argument,"  said  Beekman. 
"  I  will  join  your  club.  Do  you  know,  I  felt  that 
this  was  coming?  I  ran  down  here  to  see  you 
because  something  pulled  me  to  you.  I  knew  you 
would  propose  something.  I  knew  that  I  must 

IS 


The  Millionairess 


do  it,  whatever  it  was,  and  I  felt  that  it  was  to 
influence  the  rest  of  my  life." 

"  What  a  fakir  you  are,  Beekman,  with  your 
pretended  Oriental  second  set  of  senses !  " 

"  I  am  not  faking,  Chester,  believe  me.  I  have 
never  yet  been  deceived  by  such  premonitions. 
You  can  learn  to  will  them  to  come,  as  I 
learnt  how  in  Japan,  and  I  will  tell  you  how  to 
do  it  if  you  like,  though  it  is  not  a  thing  one  can 
tell  to  everybody.  It  certainly  is  not  faking." 

"  But  you  got  my  urgent  letter  asking  you  to 
come  here?  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  got  no  letter.  You  sent 
it  to  my  house?  But  I  have  not  been  there;  I 
came  in  from  Lakewood  only  an  hour  ago.  How- 
ever, never  mind  all  that.  I  will  go  with  you  to 
your  club.  It's  to-night,  is  it  not?  Very  well. 
I  will  dress  and  be  ready  whenever  you  say." 

"  In  two  hours,  then  —  at  seven,"  said  Chester. 
"  I  will  call  for  you  in  a  cab,  and  you  must  sub- 
mit to  be  blindfolded ;  also,  when  you  arrive  you 
will  be  cross-examined,  and  you  must  answer 
fully  and  truthfully,  with  the  knowledge  that 
every  word  you  say  is  being  taken  down  in  short- 
hand, for  these  examinations  form  the  archives 
of  the  club  —  its  only  records,"  16 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

"  It  sounds  very  —  "  but  again  Beekman  was 
forbidden  to  say  more. 

"  Never  mind  how  it  sounds ;  you  would  better 
consider  the  soundness  of  what  I  have  offered 
you.  Be  ready  at  seven.  I'll  call  for  you.  Now, 
then,  toss  off  your  beer  and  begone." 

"  Beer?  "  Beekman  exclaimed.  "  Beer!  in  the 
face  of  such  an  adventure  ?  And  where  ladies  are 
concerned?  Ah,  the  beer  is  here,  is  it?  Well, 
let  us  present  it  to  the  waiter,  and  let  us  drink, 
in  the  clear,  cold,  liquefied  amber  of  Rudes  —  or 
Deides  —  or  some  other  hcimcr  of  the  Rhineland, 
to  the  pure,  the  sweet  artd  simple,  the  ideal  — 
what  is  the  other  name  of  your  club,  by  the 
way?" 

Thus  with  the  apparent  ease  of  plucking  a 
peach  from  a  tree  was  it  arranged  that  Beekman 
was  to  become  a  member  of  the  Beaux  Arts  Club. 
Though  lightly  described  in  another  novel,  the 
club  was  at  this  time  assuming  such  confidence  in 
its  unique  position  among  the  artists  and  the 
fraternities  of  the  country  that  it  was  taking  upon 
itself  to  knock  at  the  doors  of  the  Capital.  Its 
effort  there  was  to  stir  the  nation  with  an  appeal 


The  Millionairess 


for  that  which  all  Americans  who  love  their 
country  and  take  pride  in  its  progress  are  begin- 
ning to  demand:  an  order  of  National  Merit, 
carrying  with  it  a  medal,  at  the  President's  dis- 
posal, for  that  person  who,  in  each  year,  produces 
some  work  of  art  or  of  practical  use  which  reflects 
credit  upon  us  all  as  a  people.  Whether  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Beaux  Arts  Club  secretly  hoped  that 
they  might  themselves  be  chosen  as  the  nucleus  or 
chrysalis  of  the  new  order  we  can  only  guess. 
Being  Americans,  who  set  no  limit  upon  their 
aspirations,  and  each  of  whom  considers  the  best 
of  everything  none  too  good  for  him  or  her,  it  is 
more  than  probable  that  this  superb  stroke  of 
fortune  —  or,  as  they  would  have  said,  "  splen- 
did demonstration  of  wisdom  on  the  part  of  the 
Government  "  —  was  one  of  the  things  for  which 
they  hung  up  Christmas  stockings. 

It  may  have  seemed  to  Courtlandt  Beekman, 
on  being  urged  to  join  the  club,  that  the  pluck- 
ing of  i  ripe  peach  was  a  just  simile  of  the  ease 
with  which  he  was  to  be.  launched  into  this 
coterie.  He  was  to  discover,  later,  that  no  other 
man  had  ever  been  asked  for  his  company  in  that 
circle,  and  that  even  in  his  case  the  slow  ripening 

18 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

of  a  peach  served  but  poorly  to  compare  with  the 
process  of  cautious  delay  and  deliberation  which 
had  prefaced  the  final  step  of  extending  this  in- 
vitation. Not  as  a  man  who  had  wrested  honours 
from  four  great  nations  by  his  work  as  an  ex- 
plorer, but  as  one  known  to  all  students  and  en- 
lightened sensualists  as  the  translator  of  a  hun- 
dred of  the  most  precious  poems  of  Persia,  he 
could  plead  for  a  place  in  the  Beaux  Arts  Club. 
But  these  merits  were  merely  considered  as  proofs 
of  the  nature  of  his  talents  and  the  direction  of 
his  tastes.  He  was  really  taken  in  because  he 
added  to  these  gifts  the  powerful  possessions  of 
wealth,  youth,  and  ambition,  which  gave  ground 
for  the  hope  that  he  might,  under  the  spurring  of 
his  comrades,  become  a  light  to  their  feet  and  a 
strong  hand  to  the  right  arm  of  the  society. 

Only  the  governors  and  leading  spirits  of  the 
club  were  in  its  little  offshoot,  known  to  them 
as  "  the  Boozers,"  from  a  play  upon  the  words 
"  beaux  arts."  Only  these,  their  wives,  and  the 
rich  Miss  Laura  Lament,  —  the  necessary  excep- 
tion to  every  hard  and  fast  rule,  —  met  once  a 
month  to  dine  and  make  merry  together.  Beek- 
man  was  taken  into  the  more  serious  circle  by 

19 


The   Millionairess 


means  of  this  side  door,  because  it  was  felt  that, 
as  a  brilliant  member  of  high  cosmopolitan  soci- 
ety, he  would  bring  to  the  rest  as  much  as  he 
received,  and  thus  enrich  their  common  treasury 
of  the  delights  of  good  fellowship. 


20 


II. 


THE   RENDEZVOUS 
ON  THE   ROOF 

"  What  things  have  we  seen  done  at  the  Mermaid  !  "  —  Beaumont. 


CHESTER  whispered  to  the  driver, 
when  Beekman  had  stepped  into  the  coupe, 
that  he  was  to  drive  down  Fifth  Avenue 
to  Eleventh  Street,  straight  across  Eleventh 
Street  to  Greenwich  Avenue,  up  that  and  Seventh 
Avenue  to  Twenty-third  Street,  and  thence 
to  the  Rhinelander  Flats,  that  towering  pile 
of  stylish  apartments  capped  by  artists'  studios 
and  bedrooms,  which  rises  like  a  boar's  tusk 
above  the  otherwise  nearly  even  dentations 
of  the  neighbourhood  sky-line.  As  the  coupe 
turned  for  the  first  time  Beekman,  who  had  been 
heavily  blindfolded  by  a  white  silk  muffler,  tied 
across  his  eyes,  remarked  "  Eleventh  Street,  go- 
ing west." 

"  Oh,  damn  it,  old  chap,"  Chester  exclaimed, 
petulantly  ;    "  if  you  are  going  to  practise  that 

21 


The  Millionairess 


second  sight  business  of  yours,  and  always  know 
where  you  are,  there  is  no  use  going." 

"  All  right,  old  fellow,"  Beekman  answered. 
"  '  I  will  be  good,'  as  the  girlish  Victoria  an- 
swered, when  they  woke  her,  to  tell  her  she  was 
queen.  But  you  had  better  talk  to  me  —  and  in 
the  most  absorbing  manner  —  if  you  wish  me  to 
walk  into  your  trap  with  none  of  my  wits  about 
me." 

The  rendezvous  of  the  club  on  this  night  was 
at  a  studio  which  J.  Delafield  Wright,  the  cele- 
brated painter,  had  built  upon  the  roof  of  the 
Rhinelander  Flats.  He  had  gone  up  there  at  first 
to  study  the  roofs  of  New  York,  and  especially 
the  smoke  and  steam  effects,  which  were  multi- 
tudinous and  peculiar.  These  he  caught  in  a 
painting,  which,  while  wholly  impressionistic  and 
very  beautiful,  nevertheless  suggested,  better  than 
any  thousand  views  or  descriptions,  the  true  idea 
of  New  York's  foremost  place  as  a  city  of  manu- 
factures. Pleased  by  the  light,  the  absence  of  all 
obstruction  to  the  view,  and  by  the  freedom  from 
intrusion,  he  built  there  a  studio  of  bamboo  and 
canvas  —  which  blew  over  to  New  Jersey,  or  into 
the  North  River,  a  fortnight  later,  in  a  little  thun- 

22 


The  Millionairess 


der-squall.  Then  he  put  up  the  present  large 
structure  of  steel  and  glass,  and  found  that,  by 
letting  none  except  his  closest  friends  into  the 
secret  of  the  studio's  existence,  he  could  work 
there  in  peace,  while  keeping  his  former  studio 
below-stairs,  from  which  bores  and  beggars  could 
be  turned  away  as  fast  as  they  came  —  which  he 
used  to  say  was  at  the  rate  of  three  an  hour,  for 
ten  hours  each  day.  It  was  his  custom  to  deco- 
rate this  roof  studio  differently  for  each  meeting 
of  the  Beaux  Arts  Club,  when  these  were  held 
there.  Travel  and  long  residences  in  Holland, 
France,  Japan,  Italy,  Spain,  and  Mexico,  where  he 
had  spent  money  lavishly  for  what  he  considered 
most  beautiful  in  each  land,  made  it  possible  for 
him  to  produce  a  very  complete  effect  as  well  as 
a  new  background  on  each  occasion.  On  this 
night  of  Beekman's  visit,  the  theme  of  the  decora- 
tions was  Japanese  Art  —  that  beautiful  fruition 
of  centuries  of  cultivated  taste  which  has  been 
discarded  and  abandoned  in  a  day,  as  it  were,  by 
that  misguided  race ;  that  art  which  our  pioneers 
in  taste  discovered  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago, 
and  which  the  dull  and  ignorant  world  still  leaves 
them  to  enjoy.  Wright  had  gone  to  Japan  late, 

23 


The  Millionairess 


but,  by  perseverance  and  a  great  outlay  of  money, 
had  managed  to  do  better  in  collecting  the  debris 
of  Japan's  golden  age  than  any  one  in  all  the 
world  except  one  or  two  early  collectors.  He  col- 
lected with  the  fever  of  one  who  comes  upon  a 
palace  ahead  of  a  devastating  army. 

"  I  felt  as  one  does  who  rushes  into  a  burning 
museum,"  he  said.  "  I  knew  that  whatever  I 
could  save  had  few  or  no  mates  or  replicas,  and 
that  none  could  or  would  ever  be  made  in  the 
future." 

Thus  does  the  enlightened  traveller  feel  who 
finds  himself  in  Japan.  Its  art  life  is  dead,  and 
what  remains  of  its  living  reminders  is  a  mockery. 
All  has  been  exchanged  for  an  unsuitable  form  of 
civilisation  which  is  but  imitated  and  may  never 
be  attained.  But  the  effects  of  our  own  artists  in 
line,  in  colour-combination,  and  in  composition 
will  continue  the  richer  for  these  relics  of  an  art 
which  was. 

Sketches  which  Wright  had  made  in  Japan 
were  mingled  with  original  paintings  by  Hokusai, 
Kunisada,  Hokubai,  Toyokuni  I.,  Utamaro,  and 
Korin.  Of  original  masterpieces  by  Hokusai,  he 
exhibited  more  than  are  to  be  seen  in  both  the 

24 


The  Millionairess  Hf 

British  Museum  and  the  great  collections  of 
Paris.  Porcelain  from  all  the  famous  places  of 
manufacture  were  shown  in  groups,  and,  often, 
Wright  had  put  among  them  the  Chinese  work 
of  the  same  sort  (the  Corean  going  with  the  old 
Satsuma  ware,  of  course),  to  show  at  once  the 
course  of  Japanese  art  from  its  sources  —  which, 
in  the  case  of  China,  still  holds  the  mastery  in 
many  lines.  Carvings  in  ivory,  bamboo,  and 
jade-stone,  painted  and  carved  wood  from  many 
temples,  as  well  as  gorgeous  costumes  sufficient 
for  a  theatrical  spectacle,  all  contributed  to  make 
a  splendid  as  well  as  princely  display. 

The  splendour  of  the  studio  was  not  permitted 
to  burst  upon  Beekman  immediately  upon  his  ar- 
rival. Led,  still  blinded,  from  the  cab,  he  was 
made  to  mount  the  seemingly  unending  stairs  — 
lest  the  swift  elevator  should  betray  the  identity 
of  the  building.  Arrived  upon  the  roof,  which 
was  as  hard  and  solid  as  the  street,  he  was  asked 
to  be  seated  in  order  that  he  might  be  catechised 
according  to  the  formula  of  initiation. 

All  the  men  and  women  of  the  club  stood 
about  him,  to  listen  —  and  to  interrupt  when  they 
were  so  inclined.  They  were  a  distinguished- 

25 


The  Millionairess 


looking  company.  The  men  in  their  evening 
dress  betrayed  their  nationality  by  the  strenuous 
lines  in  their  frank  and  upraised  faces,  —  lines 
that  told  of  the  almost  ferocious  earnestness  each 
put  into  his  life-work.  The  ladies,  attired  with 
elegance  in  full  evening  dress,  carried  in  their 
countenances  the  courage  and  confidence  of  all 
our  women,  modulated  by  the  dignity  with  which 
an  American  wife,  and  especially  a  matron  of  our 
race,  supports  her  unexampled  liberty.  And  even 
in  that  company,  where  every  man's  face  exhib- 
ited the  exalted  beauty  of  high  intelligence  and 
assured  mastery  of  his  calling,  the  lion  of  the 
group  was  Courtlandt  Beekman.  He  sat  before 
them  like  Apollo  blindfold  and  in  modern  dress. 

The  company  made  a  pleasing  tableau,  whose 
accessories  were  the  clear  blue  sky,  lightly  touched 
by  the  reflection  of  the  city's  lamps,  the  stars  shin- 
ing in  myriads  amid  the  deeper  blue  beyond,  the 
moon  pouring  its  soft  light  on  the  jewelled  necks 
and  bare  shoulders  of  the  lovely  women,  and 
around  and  beneath  them  the  ceaseless,  dull  tone 
of  the  busy  city's  life. 

Behind  the  members,  at  the  door  of  the  studio 
of  steel  and  crystal,  were  gathered  the  servants 

26 


The   Millionairess  H£ 

brought  by  several  of  the  members,  according  to 
the  usage  of  the  club,  —  four  black  men  in  full 
waiters'  costumes  and  two  women,  one  of 
whom  was  the  ever  familiar,  talkative,  and  highly 
privileged  Hannah,  ready  to  die  for  her  master, 
provided  she  be  allowed  to  laugh  and  to  crack  a 
more  or  less  personal  jest  or  two  during  the 
process. 

Delafield  Wright,  acting  as  master  of  cere- 
monies for  the  evening,  raised  to  his  lips  a  comic- 
ally huge,  funnel-shaped  trumpet  of  pasteboard, 
in  order  to  put  the  questions  in  a  roaring  yet 
muffled  voice  which  could  not  afterward  be  identi- 
fied by  the  candidate,  who  had  been  expected  to 
behave  as  a  victim  of  the  coterie  should,  but  who 
was  as  calm  and  imperturbable  as  an  effigy  of  a 
man  in  marble. 


III. 

AT  THE   SILL    OF 
THE  BOOZER'S  DOOR 

"  Was  ever  woman  in  this  humour  wooed  ?  "  —  Shakespeare. 

rOUR  name?  "  was  the  first  question  the 
master  of  ceremonies  put,  with  a  roar 
that  sent  the  sound  into  the  windows  of  a 
block  of  dwellings  in  the  next  street. 

"  Courtlandt  Beekman." 

"  Your  profession  ?  " 

"  I  have  none,"  said  Beekman,  "  I  am  always 
looking  for  a  job." 

'You  are  sober?"  This  in  a  tone  which 
seemed  to  address  itself  to  a  cook  who  was  hang- 
ing out  of  a  top-story  window  a  block  distant. 

"  I  admit  it,"  said  Beekman. 

"  Are  you  sane  ?  " 

"  In  a  world  where  no  one  is  so,"  said  Beek- 
man, "  the  question  seems  barely  polite." 

"You  think  well  of  yourself?"  was  the  next 
explosion.  It  was  loud  enough  to  startle  a  maiden 

28 


The   Millionairess 


in  a  house  just  below,  who  was  prinking  before 
her  mirror,  and  who  started  as  if  she  fancied 
herself  spoken  to. 

"  It  must  be  because  I  don't  know  anything, 
and  I  know  I  don't,"  Beekman  made  answer. 

"  Are  you  married  ?  " 

"  Beyond  repair  —  to  a  whole  sex." 

"Do  you  respect  women?"  the  interlocutor 
asked. 

"I  —  er  —  I  —  "  Beekman  stammered.  There 
was  a  chorus  of  "  Oh  !  oh  !  "  and  "  He  hesitates," 
by  the  ladies. 

"  No  ;  I  am  only  trying  to  be  careful  in  my 
answers.  I  respect  the  commonplace,  which  is 
the  masculine,  but  I  revere  the  mysterious,  which 
is  woman." 

"  Which  women  do  you  most  admire  ?  "  broke 
in  Mrs.  Chester  ;  "  plain,  homelike  women,  or 
learned  ones  —  or  advanced  women,  with  mis- 
sions? " 

"  Those  are  merely  different  frocks  which 
women  put  on.  When  they  are  made  complete 
personalities  by  marriage,  their  husbands  find 
them  all  alike  —  women  and  womanly." 

"  Are  you  always  honest  ?  " 

29 


The  Millionairess 


"  If  I  were  not  I  would  say  I  was." 

"  Will  you  remain  honest  all  your  life?  " 

"  So  long  as  it  pays." 

"  Is  it  paying  now  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  sure." 

"  Oh,  this  is  going  to  be  the  best  chapter  in 
our  book  of  characters,"  Miss  Laura  Lament 
whispered  to  the  lady  beside  her. 

"  Hs  —  s  —  s  —  h,"  from  the  lady  in  question. 

"  I  fancy  I  shall  not  know  until  after  I  am 
dead,"  Beekman  went  on.  "  Different  persons 
hold  different  views.  My  friend,  Mike  Bailey, 
the  silver-tongued  Tammany  chief,  steals,  takes 
bribes,  corrupts  judges,  and  protects  the  vicious 
for  money.  He  tells  me  frankly  that  his  con- 
science is  a  molten  hell  of  remorse,  yet  he  is  able 
to  encrust  with  diamonds  the  whole  body  of  the 
woman  he  loves,  and  who  left  her  husband  be- 
cause Mike  promised  she  should  have  jewels  to 
eat  if  she  wished.  He  says  that  the  Gehenna  of  a 
decent  man  who  turns  wicked  is  preferable  to  the 
Hades  of  a  man  who  hears  a  sweetheart  cry  for 
what  he  cannot  give  her.  Dishonesty  pays,  is  the 
moral  he  draws  from  his  own  case.  I  have  two 
other  acquaintances  :  '  Flo-flo/  the  human  tennis- 

30 


The   Millionairess 


ball,  and  Pierre  Daubigny  —  '  the  late  Pierre 
Daubigny,'  his  friends  call  him.  Flo-flo,  as  a 
dancer  in  the  first  row  at  the  Alhambra  in  Lon- 
don, was  able  to  do  well  by  her  mother.  She  put 
the  old  lady  up  in  Bloomsbury  lodgings,  where 
piano-music  floats  freely  out  of  a  window  on 
every  floor  of  each  house,  and  one  always  has  the 
British  Museum  close  by  for  whirling  away  a 
hilarious  hour.  But  Flo-flo  gave  up  this  enviable 
state  to  have  herself  shot  from  a  huge  racquet 
into  a  net  for  three  times  her  dancing  salary. 
Now  she  is  away  from  her  mother  most  of  the 
time,  and  is  fearful  she  will  be  killed  each  night 
of  her  life  and  two  afternoons  in  the  week.  In 
truth,  she  is  certain  to  do  worse  than  be  killed, 
because  she  is  about  to  marry  a  loafer.  She  will 
marry  him  for  two  reasons  :  first  because  he  has 
asked  her,  and  second  because  she  thinks  she 
needs  a  protector.  Flo-flo  is  honest,  and  believes 
that  anything  honest  must  pay.  Others  don't.  I  ? 
I  do  not  judge  her  —  it  is  enough  for  me  to  look 
after  my  own  morals." 

"  You  spoke  of  another  case,"  the  cross-exam- 
iner roared  through  the  megaphone. 

"  Oh,  yes,  Daubigny.     You  know  him.     He 


The  Millionairess 


used  to  lead  Knickerbocker  heiresses  to  private 
dinners  in  rooms  strewn  knee-deep  with  roses; 
hired  an  opera  troupe,  and  gave  '  Faust  '  in  the 
streets  of  Nuremberg  one  night  after  every  one 
but  the  watch  had  gone  to  bed  ;  used  to  rent  the 
newest  Atlantic  flyer  and  give  a  concert  for  a 
very  select  few  of  his  acquaintances  out  at  sea  on 
sultry  summer  nights.  At  last  he  has  had  to 
decide  whether  to  take  a  clerkship  at  one  thou- 
sand, five  hundred  dollars  a  year,  or  to  be  a  tout 
for  a  patent  medicine  at  five  thousand  dollars  a 
year  and  expenses  paid.  He  has  chosen  the 
touting.  He  tells  me  that  six  drops  of  his  medi- 
cine let  fall  in  a  ship's  hold  will  eat  as  many 
holes  in  the  iron  plates,  and  sink  the  ship.  He  is 
selling  his  family  honour  and  social  position,  and 
cheating  both  his  friends  and  the  public.  He  does 
not  think  that  dishonest,  and  he  does  think  it 
pays.  It  is  not  for  me  to  say." 

Laura  Lament  now  took  the  great  funnel 
of  cardboard  and  spoke,  but  she  held  her  lips 
too  far  from  the  mouth  of  it,  and  something  of 
her  own  voice  was  distinguishable. 

"  I  cannot  tell  by  your  answers,  sir,"  she  said, 


The   Millionairess  Hf 

"  whether  you  do  or  do  not  respect  women.    As 
one  of  the  sex,  I  would  like  to  know." 

At  the  third  word  she  spoke,  Beekman  gripped 
the  arm  of  his  chair,  and  pulled  himself  up  in  it, 
more  erectly,  while  it  seemed  to  those  who  hap- 
pened to  be  looking  at  him  that  he  must  be  strain- 
ing to  see  through  the  folds  of  silk  which  lay 
across  his  eyes. 

"  Please  repeat  your  question,  madam,"  he 
said,  as  a  look  of  pleasurable  anticipation  took  his 
face  captive. 

Miss  Lamont,  thrown  out  of  ease  by  his  man- 
ner, and  by  the  sudden  and  peculiar  attention  that 
was  concentrated  upon  her,  repeated  the  precise 
words  she  had  spoken  before,  as  if  they  had  been 
learned  by  rote. 

"  I  cannot  tell  whether  you  do  or  do  not  re- 
spect women.  As  one  of  the  sex,  I  would  like  to 
know." 

"  I  am  sure  that  you  do  know,"  Beekman  re- 
plied. He  spoke  with  a  gravity  and  gentleness 
which  had  not  been  in  his  previous  speech.  "  I 
beg  your  pardon.  What  I  mean  to  say  is  that, 
if  my  voice  tells  you  what  yours  tells  me,  you 
are  sure  of  the  true  answer  to  your  question." 

33 


The  Millionairess 


"  What  a  queer  jest,"  said  Mrs.  Percy  Russell, 
not  bothering  to  use  the  megaphone. 

"  It  is  no  jest  at  all,"  Beekman  retorted,  ear- 
nestly, and  then,  collecting  himself,  he  added,  to 
dismiss  the  topic,  "  but  please  continue  your 
torture." 

With  this  unlooked  for  episode  there  came  a 
hush  at  first,  and  a  general  movement  of  uneasi- 
ness and  surprise.  Then  the  consciousness  that 
Beekman  was  blindfold  and  a  stranger  to  every 
woman  in  the  room  broke  the  suspense,  which 
was  finally  dispelled  by  the  interlocutor  continu- 
ing the  examination.  In  the  moment  before  he 
spoke,  however,  Laura  Lamont,  her  beautiful 
face  rose  red  with  blushing,  first  wished  herself 
at  home,  and  then  made  a  secret  vow  that  she 
would  not  speak  aloud  again  that  night,  in  order 
that  Beekman  might  go  away  without  knowing  to 
whom  he  had  addressed  himself  so  strangely. 
She  was  vexed  and  ashamed.  These  first  emo- 
tions delayed,  for  a  moment,  the  suggestion  of 
romance  that  lay  in  the  situation  thus  suddenly 
produced  between  herself  and  Beekman  —  both 
so  young,  so  wealthy,  so  brilliant,  and  so  dis- 
tinguished by  their  beauty.  Be  sure  this  was  not 

34 


The  Millionairess 


lost  upon  the  other  women  in  the  room  —  who 
felt  themselves  trembling  on  the  sill  of  a  mental 
palace  of  delight. 

"  You  lead  a  very  dangerous  life,"  said  the 
interlocutor.  And  at  the  thought  which  these 
words  suggested  Laura  softened  a  little,  and,  I 
fancy,  felt  a  slight  shudder  at  the  realisation  that 
his  life  was  ever  hanging  by  a  slight  thread. 

"Dangerous  life?"  Beekman  repeated,  as  if 
the  idea  were  new  to  him.  "  The  life  of  a  bird  in 
the  air  must  seem  so  to  a  caged  bird.  I  remem- 
ber that  the  Hackensack  meadows  were  more 
vast  and  awesome  to  me,  the  first  time  I  escaped 
from  New  York,  as  a  child,  than  ever  the  steppes 
of  Russia  appeared,  later,  after  a  lifetime  of 
travel.  At  first  I  could  not  have  slept  in  the  open 
—  not  even  in  my  father's  back  yard  —  but  now 
that  I  have  slept  beneath  twenty  skies,  I  know 
that  the  greatest  joy  and  health  and  safety  are  in 
the  roofless  bedrooms  of  nature.  As  to  the  men, 
women,  and  animals  one  meets,  if  one  takes 
proper  precautions,  the  dangers  prove  least  from 
them  where  you  at  home  fancy  them  the  great- 
est. There  are  more  violent  deaths  in  New  York 
than  in  Canton,  and  the  wild  animals  are  now 

35 


The  Millionairess 


nearly  all  in  the  '  Zoos.'  If  you  are  properly 
presented  to  the  Sioux  Indians  or  the  Matabeles, 
you  are  more  safe  in  their  camps  than  anything 
could  render  you  in  certain  parts  of  Paris.  I  will 
make  a  bargain  to  travel  Patagonia  all  over  with  a 
native,  and  will  ride  and  sleep  beside  him,  know- 
ing that  he  will  neither  hurt  me  nor  allow  harm 
to  come  to  me  if  he  can  prevent  it.  That  cannot 
be  said  of  a  Bowery  '  tough/  and  yet  you  can 
even  take  the  fangs  from  such  a  man  if  you  go 
to  him  with  credentials  he  respects,  and  a  manner 
that  discourages  trickery.  I  do  not  think  I  lead 
a  dangerous  life.  You  have  houses  and  parks  — 
well,  I  call  New  York  my  home,  and  the  world 
my  park.  The  difference  is  only  in  degree,  except 
that,  with  much  roaming  in  my  park,  there  has 
come  a  development  of  caution  which  is  like  a 
coat  of  mail." 

Here  came  a  pause. 

"  Lord  !  "  said  Beekman.     "  How  much  talky- 
talky  there  is  to  this  durbar  of  yours." 
"  You  are  doing  the  talking." 
"  But  you  are  pushing  the  buttons." 
"  You  seem  to  have  queer  friends,"  the  spokes- 
man for  the  club  resumed. 

36 


The   Millionairess 


"  Do  you  think  so?  " 

"  You  speak  of  crooked  politicians  and  human 
tennis-balls  and  —  " 

"  Those  are  not  friends  —  not  really,"  Beekman 
replied.  "  Friendships  are  seldom  formed  except 
between  infancy  and  leaving  college.  After  that 
there  is  only  camaraderie.  The  best  that  can  hap- 
pen after  college  is  to  gradually  find  one's  self  a 
member  of  what  I  call  my  Fraternite  sympa- 
thique  du  monde  —  the  order  (which  really  exists) 
of  cosmopolitans,  scattered  everywhere,  in  whose 
circle  each  nature  finds  its  fellow." 

"  For  example  ?  Speak  personally,  of  yourself, 
please.  It  is  our  rule  to  require  it." 

"  I  suppose  my  circle  must  be  rather  wide,  be- 
cause I  like  people  —  as  mere  beings,  as  living 
books  to  be  read.  Let  me  see,  in  Russia  I  have 
for  a  comrade  a  second-hand  bookseller  —  a  Nihil- 
ist, I  suspect.  Some  of  the  shelves  in  his  shop 
are  secret  doors  which  roll  away  from  the  wall, 
and  let  us  into  a  room  known  only  to  his  wife 
and  daughter.  There  he  and  I  sit  and  talk  of 
everybody  and  everything  —  which  about  sums 
up  the  limit  of  his  extraordinary  knowledge.  He 
talks,  I  should  say,  and  I  listen.  In  London  I 

37 


The   Millionairess 


have  two  genuine  comrades,  —  a  lord  who  is  as 
fond  as  I  of  yachting,  and  a  typewriter  girl  whose 
whole  mind  is  given  up  to  the  study  of  what  the 
New  Woman  is  doing,  and  can  do.  She  has 
learned  five  foreign  languages  in  order  to  post  her- 
self upon  the  women  of  as  many  lands.  She 
thinks  herself  a  prophetess,  and  really  is  most 
informing.  She  is  likewise  amusing,  as  when, 
for  instance,  she  tells  me  that  the  most  progressive 
of  all  women  are  the  American  ones,  that  they 
plan  the  railways,  design  the  cathedrals,  sit  on 
the  bench,  are  the  leading  preachers,  and  are  dis- 
tancing the  men  at  the  making  of  millions.  She 
gets  this  news,  I  gather,  from  assiduous  reading 
of  the  Women's  Home  Bugle. 

"  What  other  comrades  have  I  ?  In  Italy  there 
is  a  statesman,  a  duke,  who  —  but  we  only  fish 
together,  and  he  only  fishes  to  get  away  from 
statecraft  and  care.  Oh,  one  good  comrade  of 
mine  is  a  Blackfoot  chief,  with  whom  I  sit  and 
smoke  whenever  I  can  get  to  see  him.  He  likes 
me  —  grunts  when  I  come,  and  grunts  when  I 
go.  If  ever  gentleman  was  born  he  is  one.  I  am 
also  comrades  with  a  Chinese  gentleman  in  Che- 
foo,  who  takes  me  to  the  most  disreputable  places 

38 


The   Millionairess 


for  the  most  innocent  ends.  He  hires  a  bagnio  — 
as  is  the  custom  —  in  which  to  give  me  luscious 
dinners,  and  brings  in  talented  musicians,  lovely 
singing  girls,  and  waiting  maidens  —  or  girls,  I 
should  say.  He  is  one  of  my  very  few  funny 
comrades.  When  we  are  together  we  roar  with 
laughter  over  simple  games  like  'guess-finger;' 
we  romp  and  frolic  like  schoolboys  let  loose.  I 
do  not  know  twenty  words  of  his  language,  and 
he  does  not  know  one  word  of  any  tongue  but  his 
own,  yet  we  are  chums.  We  are  such  chums,  that 
he  has  even  let  me  see  his  wife.  That  is  a  compli- 
ment I  value  because  I  can  measure  it.  To  have 
a  Chinaman  introduce  you  to  his  wife  is  as  rare 
a  thing  as  humility  in  a  grizzly  bear." 

"  You  have  other  comrades  ?  We  must  know 
of  them  to  comprehend  your  character." 

"  In  Benares  my  friends  keep  a  shop  where  I 
sit  on  the  floor,  and  chew  betel  leaves  while  they 
tell  me  of  the  nobler  life  which  admits  of  no 
wrorry  or  care  or  concern,  either  for  present  ills 

% 

or  future  dreads.  There,  again,  I  listen  while 
their  hearts  and  mine  twine  together.  In  Bom- 
bay, when  I  go  there,  I  instantly  seek  a  Parsi 
maiden  of  supreme  beauty  and  distinguished  fam- 

39 


The  Millionairess 


ily,  who  never  talks  at  all  beyond  a  greeting  and 
a  parting  word.  We  simply  sit  and  think  of 
friendship.  When  sitting  grows  tiresome,  we 
walk  through  the  European  streets  to  the  noisy 
native  city,  and  think  on.  At  last,  for  a  change, 
we  go  down  to  the  sands  of  the  bay,  where  the 
faithful  of  her  sect  gather  to  pray  at  the  setting 
of  the  sun,  and  we  sit  on  the  steps  and  think 
farther.  Sometimes  each  holds  a  hand  of  the 
other,  as  we  walk  side  by  side.  I  have  known 
her  for  years,  and  seen  her  more  than  a  score  of 
times,  and  yet,  at  the  most,  we  have  not  conversed, 
as  you  would  call  it,  by  speech,  above  three  times." 
"What  did  you  talk  about  then?" 
"  I  asked  her  once,  whether  she  knew  that  we 
could  not  marry;  that  it  would  never  do;  it 
would  spoil  everything  for  both  of  us.  She 
laughed  and  clapped  her  hands  —  for  her  philoso- 
phy renders  her  frank  and  artless  as  a  child  — 
and  she  cried,  '  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  you  are  wise. 
I  had  many  doubts,  but  now  I  know  that  we  shall 
always  be  friends  —  for  thousands  and  thousands 
of  years.'  ' 

"  What  did  you  say  at  another  time?  "  inquired 
Mrs.  Percy  Russell,  who  had  obtained  the  mega- 

40 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

phone;  indeed,  now,  all  the  ladies,  except  Miss 
Lamont,  were  in  a  cluster  around  that  instru- 
ment, and  questions  eager  and  numerous  flashed 
from  each  pair  of  eyes  and  strained  for  flight 
from  each  pair  of  lips. 

"  I  had  been  away  five  years  and  a  half,  and 
I  half  feared  she  was  married.  For  the  very 
reason  she  "gave  me  I  felt  that  I  should  not  nec- 
essarily know  if  she  were.  It  was  not  necessary 
to  put  my  thoughts  into  words,  for  she  knew 
them,  and  I  knew  her  answers  while  yet  both  were 
unspoken.  Oh,  I  wish  she  belonged  to  your  club 
-  for  your  sakes,  I  mean.  You  would  like  her. 
She  has  sufficient  calm  and  repose  to  quiet  even 
this  part  of  Twenty-third  Street." 

"  How  do  you  know  this  is  Twenty-third 
Street?"  Archibald  Paton,  the  novelist,  inquired, 
not  caring  to  use  the  great  pasteboard  funnel. 

"  I  think  so,  that's  all,"  Beekman  replied. 
"  One  likes  at  least  to  think  he  knows  where  he 
is;  otherwise  one  is  not  at  perfect  ease." 

The  flashing  eyes  of  the  ladies  had  clouded  at 
this  interruption  and,  at  its  ending,  from  a  dozen 
lips  came  this  whispered  question  to  be  put  by 
Mrs.  Russell,  who  still  held  the  trumpet. 


The  Millionairess 


"  What  did  the  Parsi  lady  say  when  you  asked 
her  if  she  was  married  ?  " 

"I  did  not  ask  her  —  I  felt  that  she  had  told 
me,  by  a  communicating  wave  of  thought,  that 
she  was  still  unmarried.  Involuntarily,  I  ex- 
claimed, '  Thank  God  !  I  thought  —  '  and  she 
finished  the  sentence  :  '  Thought  I  was  married. 
It  would  not  matter,  marrow  of  my  mind  and 
blood  of  my  heart,'  she  said.  '  I  would  tell  my 
husband,  and  he  would  understand.'  I  said  hope- 
fully, '  Perhaps  he  would  be  "  a  friend  "  like  our- 
selves.' She  shook  her  head.  '  You  are  mind 
of  my  mind,  essence  of  that  of  which  I  am 
essence,  but  a  husband  would  only  be  part  of  our 
dust  —  his  and  mine  completing  an  earthly  body, 
as  your  essence  and  mine  complete  an  eternal 
soul.'  I  considered  a  moment  and  would  not 
admit  the  chance  of  a  catastrophe.  '  Why  might 
he  not  be  mind  of  our  minds  and  soul  of  our 
souls?  There  have  been  such  marriages.'  '  Not 
often  —  ;n  India,'  she  replied,  without  perceiving 
the  humour  of  localising  the  fault.  And  then  she 
added,  '  But  I  shall  marry  because  it  is  every  one's 
duty,  and  I  shall  only  marry  one  who  understands 


42 


The  Millionairess 


that  you  and  I  have  a  sublime  mating  which  pro- 
ceeds from  higher  than  earthly  sources,  and  must 
not  be  broken  by  such.'  ' 

One  or  two  wholly  unimportant  questions  were 
put  by  the  interlocutor,  in  order  that  the  other 
members  of  the  club  might  slip  noiselessly  away, 
into  the  studio.  This  accomplished,  Colin 
Chester  removed  the  bandage  from  Beekman's 
eyes,  which  showed  him  only  a  company  of  six 
negro  servants  instead  of  the  ladies  and  gentle- 
men he  might  have  supposed  were  around  him, 
and  might  have  expected  to  see.  Colin  Chester 
had  remained  outside,  in  order  to  further  deceive 
him. 

"  Your  examination  is  concluded,"  Chester 
said.  "  A  committee  is  now  passing  judgment 
upon  you.  The  rest  of  our  members  you  see 
before  you." 

"  I  have  always  enjoyed  what  I  have  read  of 
the  Sullivan  Street  Poker  Club,"  said  Beekman. 
"  I  didn't  know  it  had  grown  stylish,  and  moved 
up-town." 

"  H'm,"  a  waiter  whispered  to  Hannah,  "  de 
gentleman  ain't  showin'  off  's  much  as  he  thinks 
he  is  —  calling  us  Sullivan  Street  trash." 

43 


The  Millionairess 


"  Mebbe  he  don't  understand  Affero- Ameri- 
cans," Hannah  replied,  "  but  he  knows  de  game 
ob  poker  fo'  he  done  got  a  raise  out  o'  you, 
maghty  easy." 


44 


IV. 

IN   WHICH  SOME    CHARACTERS 
TAKE    THEIR  PLACES 

"  Who  ever  loved  that  loved  not  at  first  sight?  "  —  Shakespeare. 

HESTER  vanished,  saying  that  he  would 
be  gone  but  an  instant.  It  was  fully  three 
or  four  minutes  before  he  returned,  and  then 
his  face  was  clouded.  With  an  effort  which 
Beekman  could  not  miss  seeing,  Chester  smiled 
as  he  said :  "I  congratulate  you  upon  being  one 
of  us." 

"And  what  was  the  trouble?"  Beekman  in- 
quired. "  Come,  you  should  play  the  game.  In 
such  a  case  I  should  be  left  to  judge  whether  I 
ought  to  accept  membership.  A  doubtful  com- 
pliment is  not  to  my  taste." 

"  There  is  no  doubt  about  it,"  Chester  replied. 
"  One  member  out  of  nineteen  voted  against  you. 
I  suppose  you  saw  my  disgust  written  on  my  face. 
It  was  because  such  an  incident  has  never  oc- 
curred with  us  before,  and  especially  because  who- 

45 


The  Millionairess 


ever  voted  so  has  not  revealed  himself  —  or  her- 
self —  and  we  cannot  find  out  what  prompted  the 
vote.  I  am  sorry  you  guessed  that  something  was 
up,  but  it's  nothing,  as  you  see." 

"  I  think  it  merely  amusing,"  said  Beekman. 
"  Let's  go  in." 

The  setting  of  the  scenes  in  wrhich  our  charac- 
ters are  to  move  has  caused  so  much  delay  in 
the  action  of  the  piece  that  \ve  cannot  add,  as 
we  would  have  preferred  to  do,  a  detailed  descrip- 
tion of  the  club  meeting  which  now  followed.  It 
was  only  a  dinner-party,  after  all,  if  you  choose 
to  call  it  so,  but  it  was  as  family-like  and  uncon- 
ventional as  if  it  had  taken  place  in  Germany,  and 
yet  as  brilliant  with  wit  and  anecdote,  song  and 
fun,  as  it  could  only  be  in  America.  Out  on  the 
roof,  at  just  the  right  distance  to  produce  a  light 
caress  of  softest  melody,  a  piano,  violin,  and  man- 
dolin were  exquisitely  played  while  the  dinner 
lasted.  After  the  dinner,  Delafield  Wright  told 
of  a  partly  comical,  partly  weird  experience  of  his 
own  in  Cuba.  Laura  Lament  sang  two  dainty 
Italian  serenades,  and  for,  perhaps,  the  chief  bit 
of  the  entertaining  Archie  Paton  read  his  latest 
short  story.  It  told  of  a  sweet  and  simple  country 

46 


The  Millionairess 


girl,  rich  in  Christian  faith,  who  came  to  New 
York,  and  began  to  dabble  in  the  mysteries,  phi- 
losophies, and  mental  eccentricities  with  which  the 
American  women  of  the  moment  coquet,  usually 
with  merely  affected  seriousness,  but  which  the 
girl  took  so  gravely  that  in  two  years  she  was 
left  stripped  of  everything  which  had  made  her 
happy,  and  which  had  caused  her  to  be  beloved. 
She  was  as  one  turned  to  marble  and  unclothed. 
She  threw  away  God,  she  laughed  at  the  bare  idea 
of  love,  she  shuddered  at  the  barbaric  indelicacy  of 
marriage,  children  became  to  her  mere  symbols 
of  animalism.  At  last  she  became  a  tippler  and 
a  gambler  and  —  took  too  much  chloral,  and  went 
where  she  could  shock  sensible  and  decent  people 
no  longer.  The  story  was,  in  places,  too  ser- 
monish  and,  in  other  places,  too  bold  and  strong 
in  its  tone,  but  the  members  were  never  openly 
critical  of  one  another's  best,  and  only  Laura 
Lament  knew  that  it  was  written  (and  read  on 
this  occasion)  solely  as  an  attack  upon  her  —  a 
lecture  upon  her  behaviour  —  as  well  as  with  the 
foreknowledge  that  she  would  take  it  as  such. 

She  had  grown  accustomed  to  Paton's  assump- 
tion of  the  right  to  endeavour  to  school  her  in 

47 


The   Millionairess 


his  ways  of  thought,  but  no  amount  of  practice 
could  harden  her  to  bear  unjust  and  grave  as- 
persions upon  her  character  —  even  from  Archie 
Paton  —  without  feeling  the  smart.  Yet  of  late 
he  seemed  not  to  know  or  care  where  to  stop  in 
the  excesses  of  his  fault-finding  with  her  innocent 
pleasures.  Had  he  taken  the  trouble  to  ask  her,  or 
to  study  her  life,  he  would  have  seen  that  she  had 
not  only  quickly  tired  of  the  silly  crazes  of  the  idle 
ones  of  her  sex,  but  had  fathomed  the  reason  why 
American  women,  unlike  all  others  on  earth,  flit 
ceaselessly  from  one  "  ism  "  or  "  osophy  "  to  an- 
other, like  birds  that  hop  from  perch  to  perch. 
But  he  acted  upon  his  knowledge  of  her  amuse- 
ments of  full  eighteen  months  before,  and  she 
could  have  afforded  to  smile  in  spite  of  the 
wounds  he  gave  to  her  pride. 

She  had  read  the  new  literature  of  the  New 
Woman  —  or,  rather,  had  dipped  into  it,  for  she 
was  too  cleanly  by  nature  to  read  farther  than 
was  needed  to  betray  its  morbidness  —  and  she 
had  resolved  that  she  could  share  none  of  the 
aspirations  of  its  heroines.  She  felt  that  the  so- 
lution of  woman's  difficulties  reached  by  the 
chief  women  in  such  unwholesome  books  as  "  The 

48 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

Woman  Who  Did  "  and  "  The  Story  of  a  South 
African  Farm,"  to  mention  two  out  of  a  thou- 
sand, required  no  original  genius.  To  adopt  their 
lives,  she  saw,  was  merely  to  let  go  of  all  which 
healthy  women  value.  Theirs  was,  in  plain 
phrasing,  merely  a  descent  to  animal  nature,  and 
such  lives  are  not  novel,  but  have  been  pursued 
since  the  earliest  centuries  by  a  class  of  unfor- 
tunates which  has  never  before  celebrated  its 
defiance  of  respectability  in  verse  or  prose. 

She  determined  that,  since  men  grant  full  free- 
dom to  her  sex,  she  would  utilise  it  in  an  added 
womanliness,  an  emphasised  femininity.  She 
would  be  as  brave,  strong,  resourceful,  and  inde- 
pendent as  possible,  but  ever  gentle  and  womanly, 
foreseeing  a  blessed  dependence,  later,  when  love 
should  rule  and  when  she  and  some  beloved  "  he  " 
should  both  joy  in  Love's  sovereignty. 

"  Any  sort  of  a  man  except  a  manly  man  is 
contemptible.  It  should  be  the  same  with  any 
woman  who  is  not  ultra  womanly.  I  will  be  a 
woman  —  and  proud  of  it !  "  she  exclaimed. 

In  saying  this,  she  meant  a  woman  of  the  type 
hall-marked  by  all  the  centuries,  —  a  woman  pre- 
ferring the  solid  treasure  of  a  pure,  sweet  life 

49 


The  Millionairess 


to  the  imitation  culture  of  a  Browning  guild,  ele- 
vating the  exemplary  career  of  refined  and  gentle 
womanhood  above  the  presidency  of  a  Woman's 
Bulldog  Club,  and  prizing  the  colour,  rustle,  and 
frou-frou  of  womanly  dress  above  the  absurdities 
of  mannish  overcoats,  waistcoats,  and  broad-soled 
shoes. 

Archie  Paton  and  she  were  considered  to  be 
lovers  by  all  in  the  club,  and  these  others  wondered 
what  was  delaying  the  frank  announcement  of 
their  relationship.  For  Laura's  part,  she  had  be- 
gun two  years  ago  to  take  it  for  granted  that  he 
would  ask,  and  that  she  must  yield.  She  was  very 
romantic,  you  must  understand,  and  he  had  cer- 
tainly played  a  heroic  part,  when  first  she  met 
him,  in  rescuing  her  from  a  shocking  plight,  in 
which  her  desperate  and  unprincipled  cousin,  Jack 
Lament,  had  placed  her  in  order  to  force  her  to 
marry  him  and  give  him  the  command  of  her 
wealth.  Some  who  read  this  will  recognise  her 
as  the  heroine  of  another  tale,  who  had  since 
taken  her  uncle's  name  of  Lament  in  obedience 
to  his  will. 

She  was  wholly  girlish  in  those  days,  and  her 


The  Millionairess 


gratitude  and  admiration  for  Mr.  Paton's  fame 
as  a  novelist  put  it  out  of  her  mind  to  question 
his  right  to  her  hand.  Now,  a  long  time  had 
passed,  and  he  had  shown  less  and  less  of  the 
lover's  qualities,  while  still  assuming  the  right 
to  criticise  and  guide  her.  He  said  nothing  of 
marriage,  and  she  was  glad  to  be  free.  But  for 
his  peculiar  claim  upon  her  life,  she  would  never 
yet  have  given  marriage  a  serious  thought. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  club  meeting  she  hoped 
to  escape  the  leave-taking  of  the  stranger  who  had 
awakened  in  her  heart  a  timid  but  delicious  flut- 
tering, the  nature  of  which  she  could  not  yet 
define.  During  the  whole  evening  she  endeav- 
oured never  once  to  let  Beekman  hear  her  voice, 
to  which  he  had  so  strangely  called  attention. 
She  avoided  him,  though  she  longed  to  do  dif- 
ferently. We  marvel  at  the  patience  of  the 
Church  of  Rome,  which  plans  for  centuries  ahead. 
We  can  scarcely  comprehend  even  the  political 
methods  of  the  huge  tortoise  called  Russia,  which 
decides  upon  a  thing,  and  calmly  waits  one  hun- 
dred years  to  bring  about  either  it  or  the  chance 
that  permits  it.  But  women  have  this  subtlest 
form  of  tact.  When  they  are  most  eager,  they  can 

51 


The   Millionairess 


hold  back  and  parley  and  deny.  Nature  wills 
that  it  should  be  so  in  order  that  the  directness, 
the  explosive  force,  and  the  impatience  of  the 
passions  of  men  may  be  balanced,  else  only  God 
knows  what  mistakes  and  violence  and  misery 
might  mark  the  relations  of  the  sexes.  When  a 
thing  did  not  matter  —  as  whether  Miss  Lament 
should  have  ice-cream  now,  or  wait  until  it  was 
easier  to  get  —  she  could  be  as  impatient  and 
eager  as  a  fly.  But  when  she  was  stirred  to  her 
soul's  depths,  and  made  ten  times  more  eager,  she 
could  wait  a  year,  as  if  she  forgot  that  we  live 
but  seventy  years,  and  of  them  twenty  at  one  end 
have  no  real  interest,  while  fifteen  at  the  other  are 
mainly  good  for  reminiscence. 

Under  great  urging,  she  sang  at  the  piano,  but 
she  reasoned  that  her  singing  voice  was  nothing 
like  her  speaking  voice.  And  she  was  right. 

At  last,  when  the  company  was  breaking  up, 
and  hats  and  canes,  capes  and  bonnets,  were  de- 
manded, Beekman  searched  the  studio  and  its 
anterooms  for  the  proudest,  most  beautiful, 
purest  face  they  held,  for  the  most  girlish  figure, 
made  imposing  by  the  utmost  dignity  of  pose. 
He  found  the  possessor  of  these  charms  standing 
apart  from  the  others.  52 


"'  r  AM  TO  KNOW  YOU  BETTER    THAN  I  KNOW,   OR 
*     EVER  KNEW,   MAN  OR    WOMAN  ON  EARTH'" 


The   Millionairess 


"  Miss  Lament,"  said  he,  "  I  am  obliged  to 
say  '  good-night.'  I  may  not  ask  you  what  my 
voice  said  to  you  when  our  two  lives  touched  one 
another  for  the  first  time." 

"  Oh,  I  —  "  she  stammered.  Perhaps  she  was 
about  to  deny  that  something  within  her  had 
translated  his  voice  into  a  speech  of  soul  to  soul 
too  subtle  to  be  put  into  language.  That  would 
have  been  a  lie,  yet  one  of  a  sort  that  is  sanctioned 
in  maidens  by  centuries  of  usage  —  for  in  more 
than  one  respect  is  there  one  standard  of  morals 
for  men,  and  a  different  standard  for  women. 

"  I  would  not  presume  to  ask  you  that,"  he 
went  on,  purposely  interrupting  her;  "  but  I  may 
tell  you  that  your  voice  announced  to  me  that  I 
am  to  know  you  better  than  I  know,  or  ever  knew, 
man  or  woman  on  earth." 

"  I  hope  we  shall  all  know  you  as  well,"  she 
answered.  "  We  are  like  so  many  brothers  and 
sisters  here.  I  am  very  glad  you  have  joined  our 
club,  Mr.  Beekman." 

"  I  wonder  why  Mr.  Paton  does  not  share 
your  kind  feeling  —  the  gentleman  who  read  the 
novelette?  " 

"  Mr.  Beekman,  you  are  uncanny,"  Miss  La- 
mont  replied.  53 


The  Millionairess 


"Oh,  no;  merely  observant,"  said  he.  "  I  bear 
him  no  ill-will.  Life  would  be  no  good  if  we 
stored  it  full  of  resentments  and  fits  of  temper. 
I  only  wonder,  because  such  opposition,  if  one's 
opponent  is  clean  and  honest,  is  a  rebuke  for 
some  fault,  and  I  want  to  know  all  my  faults, 
else  how  can  I  correct  them?  Miss  Lament,  you 
and  I  will  always  say  '  au  revoir  '  —  never 
'  good-bye/  " 

When  he  had  gone,  Miss  Lament  made  her 
way  out  by  a  devious  course,  to  avoid  her  cousin. 
She  felt  that  she  knew  why  he  had  voted  against 
Mr.  Beekman,  and  that  he  might  even  blame  her 
for  attracting  the  peculiar  and  especial  interest  of 
the  newcomer  —  innocent  as  she  felt  herself  to  be. 


54 


V. 

BEAUTIFUL,   RICH,   LOVABLE  — 
YET  ALMOST  ALONE 

"  Is  she  not  passing  fair?  "  —  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 

FORTNIGHT  after  the  meeting  of 
the  Beaux  Arts  Club,  we  are  minded 
to  follow  Miss  Lament  to  her  home  in  Powell- 
ton,  some  distance  inland  from  the  Hudson 
River,  in  the  region  of  which  Newburg 
and  Poughkeepsie  may  be  said  to  play  the  parts 
of  two  capitals.  The  estate  and  great  fortune  of 
Colonel  Lament  had  been  begging  for  an  heir 
until,  at  last,  Laura  was  discovered.  She  was 
a  niece  of  the  old  gentleman,  yet  a  very  poor  — 
indeed,  a  homeless  —  girl,  whose  only  companion, 
her  mother,  had  been  removed  to  an  institution 
for  the  treatment  of  a  malady  of  the  brain  at 
the  time  when  the  girl's  kindly  fates  brought  her 
to  the  ownership  of  her  uncle's  great  fortune  and 
his  stately  colonial  mansion  —  the  homestead  of 
the  Lamonts.  Now,  we  find  her  more  than  two 

55 


The  Millionairess 


years  older,  ending  a  summer's  rest  after  a  lively 
season  divided  between  the  cares  she  had  im- 
posed upon  herself  in  the  near-by  village,  which 
was  a  part  of  her  estate,  and  the  strain  of  many 
experiences  in  —  I  had  almost  said  fashionable 
life,  but  social  pleasure  is  the  truer  term. 

Rich  as  she  was,  and  beautiful  in  the  extreme, 
she  had  not  the  entree  to  fashionable  society,  and 
her  pleasures  and  dissipations  were  enjoyed  with 
the  well-to-do  circle  of  refined  men  and  women 
of  the  Beaux  Arts  set  and  its  connections.  It 
would  be  untrue  to  say  that  she  was  obliged  to 
be  content  with  this  —  the  most  intellectual  and 
satisfying  coterie  in  New  York.  Rather  was  it 
true  that  she  hungered  for  admittance  to  the  in- 
nermost circle  of  the  professional  fashionables,  the 
exclusive  "  Four  Hundred."  With  sense  enough 
to  foresee  that  they  might  disappoint  her,  and 
that  she  might  eagerly  return  to  her  earlier 
friends,  never  again  to  be  drawn  away  from  them, 
she,  none  the  less,  desired  the  fullest  experience, 
to  make  the  highest  flight,  to  know  the  utmost 
joy  of  social  success  and,  after  that,  to  settle 
where  she  chose.  To  declare  this  is  but  to  say 
that  she  was  a  woman,  heart-free,  idle  or  busy  as 

56 


The  Millionairess 


she  chose,  and  with  sufficient  worldly  means  to 
pay  her  footing  anywhere. 

This  book  is  the  story  of  her  ambition  in  this 
wise,  and  of  her  dumb,  unconscious  gravitation 
tow'ard  matrimony.  There  are  whole  chapters  in 
which  the  reader  may  seem-  to  lose  touch  with 
each  of  these  impulses,  and  in  which  Laura  La- 
mont  was  truly  forgetful  of  both,  yet  the  forces 
that  were  weaving  her  destiny  worked  on  and 
on,  and  never  paused. 

Though  Laura's  mother  was  again  with  her,  the 
beautiful  heiress  was  little  better  than  alone  in 
the  world,  in  so  far  as  any  ability  to  command 
motherly,  or  any  other  form  of  intimate,  counsel 
and  guidance  \vas  concerned.  Her  father  for 
many  years  had  kept  apart  from  his  wife  and 
daughter,  and  thus  had  rid  himself  of  the  last 
impulse  toward  unselfishness,  —  the  sole  elevating 
force  left  to  what  are  called  "  men  of  the  world.'* 
Thenceforth  he  wallowed  in  a  mainly  animal 
existence.  On  hearing  of  Laura's  good  fortune, 
he  wrote  from  Europe  to  his  New  York  lawyers, 
to  notify  his  wife  that  he  wished  her  to  consider 
him  dead.  Now  that  remittances  of  money,  the 
only  form  his  communications  had  taken  in 

57 


The  Millionairess 


years,  were  no  longer  needed  by  the  two  women, 
he  said  he  should  feel  no  further  concern  about 
them.  Since  that  time  it  had  been  to  them  as  if 
he  was  dead.  They  never  heard  of  or  from  him 
again. 

Alone  she  guided  the  heavily  freighted  bark 
of  her  life's  duties  and  responsibilities,  and  yet 
with  a  confident  hand  she  sailed  it  over  deep 
waters,  and  even  through  uncharted  straits. 
Alone  she  presided  over  the  house  which  she  had 
transformed  into  one  of  the  most  luxurious  and 
splendid  •  of  all  the  country-seats  in  the  valley 
of  the  Hudson.  She  had  beautified  it  in  obedience 
to  a  principle  which  ruled  her  life,  for  the  pleasure 
and  profit  of  the  public.  It  was  a  notable  museum 
of  the  choice  ceramics  of  Europe  and  Asia  and 
of  the  most  artistic  furniture  of  France  and  Eng- 
land of  from  a  century  to  three  centuries  ago. 
Very  few  other  homes  in  America  contained  such 
treasures  in  tapestry,  hangings,  and  rugs,  or  a 
greater  or  finer  display  of  old  clocks,  bronzes 
and  ancient  fashionings  in  pewter  and  brass. 
Her  silver  and  Sheffield  plate  —  with  which  a 
large  van  might  have  been  filled  —  was  mainly 
stored  in  New  York,  only  a  small  amount  of  it 

58 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

being  kept  at  the  manor-house,  under  lock  and 
key  except  upon  the  most  extraordinary  occasions. 
Her  servants  were  instructed  in  the  nature  and 
history  of  the  beautiful  appointments  of  the  draw- 
ing-room, dining-room,  library,  hall,  and  recep- 
tion-room, and  these  men  and  women  understood 
that  to  the  very  humblest  who  came  must  be  ex- 
tended the  utmost  courtesy,  as  if  they  were  the 
owners  of  her  wealth,  and  she  was  but  its  cus- 
todian. During  half  of  each  day  the  ground 
floor  of  the  mansion  was  at  the  command  of  who- 
soever cared  to  inspect  it.  And  during  the  same 
hours  the  ornamental  grounds  around  the  mansion 
were  the  rendezvous  of  such  of  her  tenants  as 
cared  to  bring  their  sewing,  their  books,  or  their 
children  under  the  shade  of  her  trees,  or  upon  the 
heavy  carpeting  of  her  lawn. 

"  It  was  long  our  good  fortune,"  she  used  to 
say,  speaking  for  her  mother  as  well  as  herself, 
"  to  live  in  Southern  France  and  in  Northern 
Italy,  surrounded  by  many  of  the  noblest,  most 
admirable  of  the  mansions  of  the  wealthy. 
Nearly  all  were  more  or  less  open  for  our  pleasure 
and  profit,  either  as  friends  of  the  proprietors  or 
as  mere  members  of  the  public.  When  cruel 

59 


The  Millionairess 


poverty  came  to  be  our  lot  I,  for  the  first  time, 
correctly  valued  what  I  had  before  that  so  blindly 
enjoyed,  and  I  learned  what  the  rich  owe  to  the 
poor  —  what  they  can  and  should  do  to  justify 
their  possession  of  wealth.  I  am  aware  that  this 
is  a  socialistic  view  of  the  case,  but  I  knew  noth- 
ing of  what  others  held  when,  by  simple  logic, 
I  came  to  this  opinion.  And  to-day  I  claim  dis- 
cipleship  with  no  philosopher,  and  relationship 
with  no  party  in  holding  —  as  I  do  —  that  if  the 
rich  desire,  even  out  of  pure  selfishness,  merely 
to  serve  their  own  interests,  they  must  at  the 
same  time  serve  the  masses  by  sharing  with  them 
not  only  their  wealth,  but  their  time  and  their 
wisdom,  in  a  brotherly  effort  to  improve  their  con- 
dition. This  they  must  do  if  they  would  remain 
safe,  in  comfort  and  in  command." 

"  The  Clock  House  "  is  the  simple  and  unpoetic 
name  by  which  Miss  Lament's  home  is  generally 
known,  and  it  is  so  called  because,  in  a  tower 
high  above  the  roof,  there  is  a  large  round  clock 
with  a  ground  glass  dial  that  is  like  a  dead  staring 
face  by  day,  and  a  brilliant  little  moon  by  night. 
It  had  been  as  purely  colonial  in  most  of  its  fit- 
tings as  in  its  architectural  designing,  but  Miss 

60 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

Lament,  eager  to  see  Italy  once  again,  had  gone 
there  eighteen  months  before,  and  from  that  coun- 
try and  England  had  brought  back  as  much  of 
art  and  ornament  as  could  be  utilised  in  enriching 
the  principal  rooms  in  the  great  old  mansion.  She 
threw  out  nothing  that  was  rare  and  beautiful 
of  the  old  family  belongings,  but  so  altered  even 
the  ceilings,  doors,  and  windows  of  the  rooms, 
that  it  was  as  if  the  old  jewels  had  gone  into  new 
caskets.  A  glance  at  the  drawing-room  will  pro- 
vide for  the  reader  at  least  a  suggestion  of  the 
appointments  and  ornamentation  of  all  that  lower 
part  of  the  house,  which  was  gradually  becoming 
one  of  the  "  sights  "  of  tourists  and  places  of 
rendezvous  of  those  who  love  the  imperishable 
beauty  of  the  best  art  of  distant  lands  and  cen- 
turies. 

The  word  "  baronial  "  presents,  at  a  stroke,  an 
idea  of  the  size  and  loftiness  of  the  drawing-room. 
Its  long  doorlike  windows  in  their  heavily  carved 
frames  were  thrown  open  upon  the  broad  grav- 
elled drive  which  separated  the  mansion  from  the 
spacious  lawn  that  reached  far  away  to  the  wall 
beside  the  Fishkill  road.  The  rich  carved  oak  of 
the  walls  was  broken  in  a  broad  central  space  be- 

6r 


The  Millionairess 


tween  a  low  wainscot  and  a  narrow  frieze.  This 
space  wore  a  covering  of  the  hue  of  old  gold  pat- 
terned with  large  but  faint  flowers  and  leaves, 
making  a  showy  background  for  the  group  of 
old  engravings  in  ebon  frames,  and  the  family 
portraits  in  oil,  whose  gold  frames  time  was  turn- 
ing copper-hued.  All  the  furniture  was  lustrous 
mahogany  of  the  graceful  fashioning  of  Chippen- 
dale, except  a  central  table  of  black  oak,  whose 
elaborate  carving  betrayed  its  false  pretence  of 
age;  a  Sheraton  table  slightly  inlaid,  a  kidney 
table,  and  a  half-table  against  one  wall  —  all  of 
eighteenth  century  mahogany.  These  were  littered 
with  bric-a-brac:  powder-blue  porcelain  from 
Nankin,  its  clumsy  reflections  from  Delft,  the  del- 
icate picture-china  of  Saxony,  and  dainty  clocks, 
statuettes,  candlesticks,  and  caskets  of  French  gilt, 
of  Oriental  and  French  bronze,  and  of  faintly 
blushing  Sheffield  plate.  Against  one  wall  an  or- 
nate Dutch  stove  of  pictured  porcelain  carried  a 
precious  load  of  willow  china,  old  Worcester  and 
old  Staffordshire.  These  treasures  were  in  large 
and  uncommon  forms,  and  held  palms  and  ferns 
upon  which  the  sunblaze  of  out-of-doors  fell 
softened  through  yellow  sash  curtains  of  China 
silk.  62 


The  Millionairess  & 

Each  door  was  a  massive  picture-design  in 
basso-relievo,  and  each  one  swung  in  a  deep  re- 
cess whose  sides  and  top  were  rich  with  massive 
carving.  Nowhere  did  the  ceiling  meet  its  sus- 
taining walls  at  right  angles,  for  the  walls  curved 
and  merged  into  the  ceiling.  The  upholstering 
of  the  furniture  was  "  old  gold  "  in  tone,  and  this 
same  colour-note,  caught  from  the  broad  panel 
along  the  walls,  was  carried  to  its  termination  by 
the  heavy  Asiatic  rugs  upon  the  polished  floor. 
The  room  was  at  once  rich  and  quiet  —  trium- 
phant and  sober  —  echoing,  it  was  thought,  the 
reflected  refinement  of  a  strong  yet  gentle  woman 
—  of  Miss  Lamont  herself,  in  fact.  This  fancy 
enhanced  every  one's  appreciation  of  its  beauties, 
yet  not  all  the  credit  was  Miss  Laura's.  Her 
main  contribution  had  been  the  frame  —  the  box, 
as  it  were,  but  fully  half  the  ornaments  had  been 
selected  and  placed  there  by  Editha  Lamont,  the 
last  mistress  of  the  mansion,  and  these  had  been 
gathered  and  stored  away  in  boxes  and  cases  by 
other  Lamonts  a  century  before  even  Editha  was 
born. 

The  season  at  which  we  are  visiting  this  home 
was  that  when  the  marigolds,  geraniums,  chrys- 

63 


The   Millionairess 


anthemums,  and  roses,  in  the  noble  garden,  still 
bravely  exhibited  rich  blossoms,  though  the  first 
chilled  winds  were  biting  some  of  their  leaves. 

A  visitor  is  taking  leave  of  her  in  the  library  — 
a  young,  ravenlike  man,  all  in  black,  and  buttoned 
to  the  chin  —  a  parson,  obviously,  but  with  the 
bright  eyes  and  nervous  quickness  of  a  man  on 
'Change. 

"  We'll  show  them  what  a  dominie  and  a 
woman  can  do,"  he  is  saying,  with  boyish  enthu- 
siasm. "  It's  cassock  and  petticoat  against  the 
world,  but,  as  the  wicked  say,  '  it's  safe  to  back 
the  drapery  against  all  the  odds.'  ' 

A  singular  reverend,  this  York  Stone;  per- 
haps a  startling  one,  but  only  to  those  who  did  not 
know  him.  Laura  might  easily  have  first  met 
him  at  a  baseball  game  or  a  football  match,  but 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  in  a  humble  cottage,  out 
toward  where  she  herself  had  lived  in  poverty 
not  long  before,  that  she  first  crossed  his  path 
in  the  very  early  days  of  her  sudden  prosperity. 
The  smooth-faced  man  in  black  —  only  twenty- 
eight,  and  looking  five  years  younger  —  had  no 
sooner  come  into  the  cottage  where  she  had 
stopped,  than  he  called  her  out  upon  the  road. 

64 


The  Millionairess 


"  You  are  the  rich  Miss  Lament?"  he  inquired. 

"  I  am  Miss  Lament." 

"  Offering  money  to  these  poor  people?  " 

"  I  wish  to  help  them,"  she  replied. 

"  Well,  helping  them  is  one  thing,  but  giving 
them  money  is  not  helping  them.  Giving  money 
to  the  poor  without  exacting  something  in  return, 
or  without  seeing  to  it  that  their  self-respect  and 
pride  are  not  impaired,  is  merely  demoralising 
them  —  pauperising  them.  I  beg  you  not  to  do 
that.  You  all  mean  kindly,  you  people  with  money 
and  nothing  to  do,  but  you  poison  your  victims, 
you  widen  the  breach  between  the  brothers  Rich 
and  Poor,  already  being  pushed  apart  by  injustice, 
greed,  and  lack  of  sympathy,  though  God  had 
joined  them,  and  meant  them  to  work  together. 
Don't  begin  it  here,  Miss  Lamont.  Let  me  come 
to  you  when  I  need  a  little  change  for  medicines 
or  delicacies  for  the  sick,  or  work  for  the  un- 
employed —  then  no  mischief  will  be  done." 

The  young  man's  earnestness  and  the  kindly 
tone  of  his  voice  softened  his  plain  speech,  and 
carried  conviction  with  them,  as  well. 

"  I  only  wished  to  be  useful,"  Laura  ventured, 


The  Millionairess 


half  apologising  for  the  impulse,  as  if  she  feared 
that  also  might  be  declared  mischievous. 

"Useful?  Good  gracious!"  exclaimed  the 
boyish-looking  but  masterful  parson,  "  there  are 
more  ways  to  be  useful  than  you  have  time  or 
money  for.  My  name  is  Stone  —  York  Stone  — 
of  the  Episcopal  church  at  Wapata.  By  pure 
assurance  I  have  reached  over  into  this  hamlet,  as 
you  see.  Let  me  call  on  you,  and  if  you  wish  to 
do  good,  let  us  work  together." 

This  occurred  two  years  earlier  than  when  this 
story  begins,  and  already  he  was  paying  his  fifti- 
eth visit.  He  and  Miss  Lamont  had  been 
alternately  laughing  light-heartedly  and  sagely 
studying  note-books  and  sheets  of  names  and 
figures,  as  if  they  formed  a  committee  of  the  local 
board  of  supervisors,  preparing  a  report  of  the 
county  revenue. 

When  he  had  taken  his  leave,  Laura  went  to 
the  drawing-room  with  her  mother  —  who  had 
been  present  during  the  parson's  visit  —  and 
there  they  ordered  their  afternoon  tea.  Mrs.  La- 
mont, as  she  had  come  to  be  called  since  her 
daughter's  change  of  name,  looked  a  splendid 
woman;  almost  a  grand  dame.  She  retained 

66 


The  Millionairess 


the  good  figure  which  had  been  part  of  her  earlier 
beauty,  and  still  carried  it  as  proudly  as  ever. 
Her  face  had  great  distinction,  being  that  of  a 
finely  born  and  bred  woman  of  clear  intellect, 
strong  will,  and  little  cause  or  inclination  toward 
self-disparagement.  As  she  sat,  at  this  time, 
looking  at  her  daughter,  you  would  have  said 
that  the  beautiful  young  girl  was  fortunate  to 
retain  this  strong  companionship  and  guidance. 
But,  alas!  the  mother's  appearance  was  only  a 
seeming.  She  suggested  what  I  have  read  of 
the  exquisite  body  of  a  maiden  which  was  found 
not  long  ago  in  a  buried  city  of  Italy,  encased 
in  lava.  Its  discoverers  had  scarcely  time  to 
exclaim  at  its  beauty,  when  the  body  resolved  into 
dust,  and  there  remained  only  the  mould  which 
it  had  made  in  the  molten  stone.  So,  in  Mrs. 
Lamont's  case,  only  the  form  remained  —  the 
temple  from  which  the  god  had  been  taken. 
Mother  and  daughter  had  exchanged  places. 
Laura  was  now  the  guardian,  and  Mrs.  Lament 
the  child. 


67 


VI. 

THE  MAID  AND  HER  MONEY 

"  A  mother  is  a  mother  still, 
The  holiest  thing  alive."  —  Coleridge. 

-H-H ! "  Laura  exclaimed  in  such  a 
sigh  as  we  utter  when  we  would  attract 
attention  without  demanding  it.  She  had 
been  idly  moving  some  ornaments  about  on 
the  mantelpiece,  but  now  she  rested  an  elbow 
there,  and  laid  her  head  within  the  bend  of 
her  arm. 

"  Oh-h-h !  "  again,  and  this  time  Mrs.  Lamont 
looked  up  and  saw  an  expression  of  perplexity 
and  impatience  upon  her  daughter's  face. 

"What  is  it,  Laura?" 

"  I'm  wishing  for  something  I  cannot  buy." 

"  You  mean  some  one  —  not  something.  I 
know,  I  know,  dearie ;  is  it  Mr.  Stone,  or  do  you 
mean  Lawyer  Borrowes  ?  " 

"  Not  either,  mother,  yet  it  is  some  one,  as  you 
think." 

68 


The  Millionairess 


"  You  mean  your  cousin  Archie,"  Mrs.  Lament 
persisted,  adding  with  a  pitiful  pretence  of  mental 
alertness  :  "  Oh,  I  know  more  than  you  have 
believed  —  since  I  recovered.  Cousin  Archie,  eh  ? 
Only  to  speak  truly,  dear,  I  had  been  thinking 
Mr.  Stone  was  crowding  your  cousin  out.  Eh? 
Be  frank  with  mother.  Hasn't  Mr.  Stone  been 
in  our  minds  a  great  deal  lately  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  dear,  dear  mother,"  Laura  said,  trip- 
ping across  the  room  to  fall  upon  her  knees  beside 
her  mother's  chair  and  throw  an  arm  about  her 
neck  and  kiss  her.  "  Don't  go  and  get  ideas  out 
of  your  knitting,  or  the  wall-paper,  or  the  sun- 
beams. Mr.  Stone's  nice  and  kind,  old  Lawyer 
Borrowes  is  nice,  and  Cousin  Archie  is  nice. 
Everybody  and  everything,  everywhere,  is  nice  — 
to  me  —  and  I  am  simply  wishing  for  the  moon, 
like  a  little  child." 

"  Mr.  Borrowes  is  married,"  said  the  inapt 
elder.  "  Oh,  I'm  not  to  be  hoodwinked  so  easily, 
Laura." 

"  No,  she  sha'n't  be  hoodwinked  —  the  dear, 
dear,  little  mudder.  And  Mr.  Borrowes  is  mar- 
ried —  forty  years  deep  in  marriage  —  with  five 
formidable  proofs  of  it  in  his  quiverful  of  fat 

69 


The  Millionairess 


boys  and  fatter  girls.  As  for  Cousin  Archie,  it 
is  not  he  who  fills  my  thoughts,  though  I  do 
wonder  about  him  —  why  he  does  not  come  to 
visit  us.  The  ladies  of  our  club  —  the  Beaux 
Arts,  you  know  —  ' 

"Made  mischief,  did  they,  dearie?" 

"No,  why  should  you  think  that?"  Laura 
went  on.  "  They  said  when  the  situation  was 
new,  last  autumn,  that  Cousin  Archie  was  —  was 
greatly  interested  in  me  —  that  he  thought  I 
was  —  that  is,  he  considered  himself  very  fortu- 
nate —  and  all  that,  you  know." 

"  I  understand  perfectly,  the  dear  boy,"  said 
Mrs.  Lamont. 

"  Only,"  Laura  continued,  "  Mrs.  Kellogg,  who 
knows  him  very  well,  said  he  was  too  proud  even 
to  have  it  thought  he  would  marry  a  woman  with 
money  —  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  why  people  al- 
ways bring  in  marriage  —  and  that  he  is  a 
'  crank  '  about  believing  that  women  should  be 
useful,  and  earn  their  own  way  like  men,  unless 
they  have  young  children." 

"  Most  women  earn  all  they  get,"  said  Mrs. 
Lamont,  with  a  flash  of  something  like  her  brain 
returning. 

70 


The   Millionairess 


"  And  Mrs.  Russell,"  Laura  continued;  "  Mrs. 
Russell,  who  is  sensibler  than  all  the  women  I 
have  ever  met  —  I  mean  except  my  dearest,  clear- 
est mother  —  she  says  Cousin  Archie  only  talks 
such  things  by  way  of  practice,  for  writing  them 
in  his  novels,  and  that  —  I  hope  she's  wrong, 
though  —  he  is  what  she  calls  a  man  in  '  club 
pickle.'  She  calls  clubs  the  tombs  of  morally 
dead  men  —  it's  perfectly  awful  to  hear  the  way 
she  goes  on  about  them,  and  she's  generally  so 
liberal,  you  know.  She  says  Cousin  Archie  has 
gone  into  his  vault,  and  is  gradually  shutting  the 
door  on  the  many  fine  traits  for  which  he  was 
once  so  beloved.  We  won't  believe  that,  shall 
we,  mother?  " 

u  Do  have  a  formal  church  marriage,  dear," 
said  Mrs.  Lamont. 

"  Now,  mother,  don't  begin  on  that." 

"  As  formal  a  ceremony,  in  as  big  a  church  as 
possible;  if  not  Trinity,  then  nothing  less  than 
St.  Thomas's.  Oh,  I  know;  you  are  set  on  a 
private  house  ceremony.  It's  your  one  violent 
opposition  to  my  wishes  —  and  I  think  it's  so  un- 
kind of  you." 

"  Dearest  mother,  I  am  not  at  all  opposed  to 


The  Millionairess 


you.  I  only  said  not  to  talk  of  it  because  you 
so  often  do  discuss  it,  though  I  tell  you  I  do  not 
even  wish  to  think  of  marriage.  You  are  for  ever 
having  me  all  but  married,  mother,  to  this  man 
and  that  man  and  the  other,  but,  truly,  since  it 
seems  I  must  keep  on  telling  you,  nothing  that  I 
can  think  of  is  further  from  me.  I  want  to  enjoy 
the  blessings  I  have,  and  they  are  too  great  and 
too  rich  for  me  to  want  for  others.  I  want  to 
realise  the  opportunities  of  my  youth  and  wealth 
—  the  pleasures,  yes,  why  not  the  pleasures  as 
well  as  the  chances  God  has  given  me  to  do 
good?" 

"  I  know,  Laura;  I  know.  I  was  the  same  as 
you  —  denying  it  —  always  denying  it,  even  to 
myself.  But  do  have  it  all  —  organist,  choir, 
maids,  trainbearers,  grooms,  house  reception, 
honeymoon  journey  —  every  bit  of  a  formal  mar- 
riage. I  cannot  think  why  you  oppose  me  so." 

"  Mother,  please  don't  ;  "  for  the  feeble  lady 
was  beginning  to  weep  silently.  "  Please,  please 
don't." 

"  Marrying  privately  is  putting  a  slight  on  a 
sacrament.  I  was  married  privately  —  in  a  hotel, 
and  —  in  a  year  I  was  an  old  shoe  ;  in  two 
years,  cast  off  —  "  72 


The  Millionairess 


The  first  soft  rain  of  grief  was  now  swollen 
into  a  strong  gust  of  hysterical  crying. 

"  Oh,  mother,  why  will  you  work  yourself  up 
so,  and  bring  back  those  cruel  memories?  Feel 
me,  mother,  with  my  arms  around  you.  See 
this  great  house  and  all  this  comfort  —  it  and 
I,  and  all  we  both  hold,  are  yours,  dearest.  Do 
let  the  dead  past  lie  buried." 

Thus  closing  another  of  her  frequently  sad 
interviews  with  her  infirm  mother,  Laura  Lament 
went  back  to  the  books  and  papers  which  had 
engaged  her  and  the  clergyman  a  half-hour 
earlier.  And  what  had  these  two  partners  ac- 
complished? More,  upon  the  surface,  than  the 
reader  would  have  believed  was  possible  ;  more 
yet,  beneath  the  surface,  in  the  hearts  and  minds 
of  the  poor. 

To  work  upon,  they  had  found  a  slovenly  vil- 
lage of  workmen's  cottages,  with  a  shabby  yard 
in  front  of  each,  and  a  shabbier  yard  behind.  A 
few  small,  starved-looking  shops,  and  a  low  grade 
tavern  —  but  no  school  or  church  edifice  —  com- 
pleted the  village.  What  Powellton  lacked  was 
to  be  found  in  Wapata,  with  which  a  slowly 
lengthening  line  of  houses  was  forming  a  Siamese 

73 


The  Millionairess 


joint.  The  poison  of  the  drinking  saloon  was 
at  work  all  through  the  village,  and  had  rendered 
it  almost  wholly  disreputable.  To-day,  Powellton 
wore  a  neat  and  flourishing  air.  The  worst 
weeds  among  the  inhabitants  had  been  rooted  out, 
new  houses  had  been  constructed,  and  the  old 
ones  had  been  overhauled  and  renewed.  In  an 
attractive  park-like  square  stood  a  large  town  hall, 
containing  a  lecture-room,  library,  lodge-room, 
gymnasium,  and  Baptist,  Roman  Catholic,  and 
Episcopal  chapels,  each  church  having  a  large 
room  of  its  own  for  its  uses.  All  the  yards  were 
now  tidy,  shady  and  blooming  gardens,  new  shops 
were  added  to  the  settlement,  and  new  cottages 
were  building.  All  this  had  been  effected  with 
Miss  Lament's  money,  and  the  practical  sympa- 
thetic planning  of  the  Rev.  York  Stone. 

Of  all  that  had  marred  the  village  when  its 
new  owner  came  into  her  property,  only  the  now 
languishing  tavern  remained.  Every  lease  of  a 
cottage  carried  with  it  a  lease  of  a  portion  of 
a  large  commercial  garden,  in  which  practical 
gardeners  taught  the  people  how  to  raise  vege- 
tables and  flowers.  This  was  but  one  way  by 
which  the  women  earned  money  while  the  men 

74 


7 *he   Millionairess  #& 

worked  in  the  near-by  quarry  and  carpet  factory, 
and  almost  every  family  was  prosperous. 

Miss  Lament  expended  one-tenth  of  her  income 
in  aiding  the  village  folk  and  improving  their 
surroundings.  To  every  one  she  gave  practical 
assistance  toward  self-help;  to  no  one  did  she 
misspend  a  dollar  in  those  forms  of  charity 
which  tend  to  weaken  the  pride  and  independence 
of  the  recipients. 

From  their  first  meeting,  a  mutual  respect, 
quickly  developing  into  intimacy,  had  sprung  up 
between  the  wealthy  maiden  and  the  clergyman. 
To  this  time  their  relations  had  never  grown 
beyond  a  mere  intimacy  of  their  intellects.  Yet 
she  was  impressionable,  she  was  inclined  to  salve 
the  wound  dealt  her  by  the  widening  breach  be- 
tween her  and  her  cousin;  she  admired  York 
Stone,  and  leaned  upon  his  counsel  and  support 
in  her  philanthropic  work. 

Clearly  it  might  have  been  advantageous  to 
him  to  gradually  break  down  the  barrier  of  re- 
serve which  repulsed  the  warmer  inclination  of 
her  nature.  He  made  no  such  effort.  When  he 
was  not  her  agent,  he  was  her  pastor.  He  had 
never  yet  faltered  in  moving  from  one  relation 
to  the  other.  75 


The  Millionairess 


She  often  sighed  when  he  left  her  house  after 
a  business  interview.  She  was  but  barely  con- 
scious that  she  did  so,  and  he  was  as  blind  of 
heart  as  is  a  mole  of  seeing. 


VII. 

THE  NEW  GOSPEL   OF  SMOKE 

"  ' .  .  .  still,  Slavery,'  said  I,  '  still  thou  art  a  bitter  draught.'  "  —  Sentimen- 
tal Journey. 

RCHIBALD  PATON,  novelist,  dandy, 
"  without  fear  and  without  reproach  " 
(on  the  score  of  clothes),  and  known  in  the 
Beaux  Arts  Club  of  rich  New  York  Bohem- 
ians as  "  the  Brute,"  because  he  was  the 
only  bachelor  among  them,  was  scudding  along 
toward  Laura  as  fast  as  a  Pullman  coach  in 
an  express  train  could  send  him.  Beside  him 
sat  Mrs.  Percy  Russell,  "  sensibler,"  as  we  have 
heard,  than  most  women.  She  was  the  wife 
of  "the  Babe"  of  the  Club,  who,  in  the 
work-a-day  world,  was  known  as  a  celebrated 
architect.  She  was  then  a  woman  at  woman's 
best  age  —  thirty-three  —  of  splendid  physique; 
tall,  large,  matronly,  comfortable-looking,  and 
comforting  to  look  at.  She  was  dressed  all  in 
blue,  from  the  top  of  the  tallest  plume  in  her 

77 


The  Millionairess 


large  hat  down  to  the  hem  of  her  tailor-made 
blue  cloth  suit ;  all  in  blue  except  her  rosy  cheeks, 
rosier  lips,  and  the  kindly  brown  eyes  under  the 
black  eyebrows  that  matched  her  hair.  In  spite 
of  her  stature  and  build,  she  was  feminine  to  the 
tips  of  her  fingers  and  toes.  A  quality  which  is 
only  suggested  by  the  word  "  nice  "  was  her  most 
marked  attribute.  She  was  "  nice  "  in  the  fine- 
ness and  grace  of  every  movement  of  her  limbs. 
She  was  "  nice  "  in  the  choice  and  fit  and  wrin- 
kleless  keeping  of  her  clothes.  She  was  "  nice  " 
in  the  expression  of  her  wholesome  face,  in  her 
choice  of  language,  in  her  thoughts,  her  impulses. 

"  Archie,"  said  she  to  her  companion,  with 
his  upturned  mustachios,  his  pince-nez,  gold- 
rimmed  glasses,  his  fashion-plate  Tweed  suit,  new 
born  of  a  bandbox,  his  irreproachable  and  un- 
commonly evident  linen,  and  his  neatly  gloved 
hands ;  "  Archie,  I  thought  I  should  have  trouble 
in  getting  you  to  come  with  me." 

"  I  was  going,  anyway,  before  you  sent  me 
word." 

"  Better  yet.  Not  flattering  to  me,  exactly,  but 
very  much  so  to  your  sweet  cousin.  She  will 
be  delighted  to  see  you  —  I'm  sure  of  it,  though 
T  have  not  heard  from  her."  78 


The   Millionairess  NT 

"  Yes,  I  fancy  she  will,"  said  Paton,  stifling 
a  groan. 

"Well,  I  declare!  What  a  delightfully  calm 
confidence  you  have  in  your  own  magnetic  qual- 
ity. The  repose  of  an  Alp,  as  the  morning  mist 
disperses  and  it  greets  the  sun,  partakes  of  stage- 
nervousness  compared  to  your  perfect  poise." 

"  I  meant  nothing  more  than  that  my  lady 
friends  insist  that  Laura  likes  me  —  likes  me 
more  than  I  wish  was  the  case  —  more  than  I 
think  I  should  be  held  responsible  for,  though  at 
first  I  was  a  little  to  blame,  perhaps." 

"  Do  you  know,"  Mrs.  Russell  inquired,  "  that 
she  worshipped  you  —  whether  she  does  now  or 
not  —  and  that  out  of  gratitude  for  your  aid 
when  she  was  in  great  trouble,  she  meant  to  give 
her  wealth  to  you  ?  The  lawyers,  whom  she  con- 
sulted on  other  matters,  forced  her  to  change 
her  plan." 

"I  know  it,"  Paton  said;  "was  there  ever  a 
project  so  foolish?  " 

"  Archie,  there  was  a  time,  not  long  ago,  when 
you  could  have  married  that  dear  girl." 

"  Do  you  regard  it  as  impossible  now  ?  " 

"  My  patience,  but  men  are  frank !  " 

79 


The  Millionairess 


"  Some  men  are  —  to  some  women." 

"Why  haven't  you  proposed  to  her?  You 
have  seen  how  she  felt  toward  you,  and  you  can- 
not say  you  ever  saw  a  lovelier  or  more  lovable 
woman." 

"  I  despise  poor  men  who  marry  rich  women, 
for  one  thing,"  Archibald  answered. 

"  Archie  Paton,  you  honour  me  with  frank- 
ness one  minute,  and  disparage  me  with  nonsense 
the  next.  I  heard  that  you  said  to  others  that 
you  would  propose  to  Laura  but  for  her  wealth, 
but  you  do  not  mean  that.  Manly  men  take  no 
account  of  a  sweetheart's  worldly  condition.  If 
she  is  poor  they  endeavour  to  make  her  rich.  If 
she  is  rich  they  take  her,  and  leave  her  money 
alone.  I  did  not  think  you  would  give  me  such 
a  reason." 

"  Well,  leaving  that  aside,  I  was  engaged  to 
a  girl  when  I  met  her  —  or  as  good  as  engaged  — 
and  —  and  —  " 

"  Are  >ou  going  to  pretend  to  me  that  your 
heart  was  torn  in  that  affair  ?  " 

"  No,"  Archie  argued,  "  but  think  how  it 
would  look  to  go  from  one  girl  straight  to  an- 
other, with  the  mitten  of  rejection  still  in  one's 
hand."  80 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

"  How  long  have  you  been  so  sensitive  to  the 
idle  opinion  of  outsiders  that  it  could  turn  you 
from  a  good  undertaking  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  may  doubt  whatever  I  tell  you,  of 
course,"  Archie  replied.  "  I  really  was  —  and 
am  —  greatly  taken  with  Laura,  but  —  now,  you 
will  doubt  this  along  with  the  rest  —  still  I  tell 
you  that  I  did  not  think  it  would  be  fair  to  her 
to  court  her.  I  was  thirty  and  experienced,  and 
she  eighteen  and  simple.  I  should  have  felt  it 
was  like  sharp  practice  to  take  advantage  of  such 
an  opportunity.  I  made  up  my  mind  to  keep 
away  from  her  as  much  as  possible,  not  alone 
for  reasons  of  honour,  either,  but  for  the  well- 
being  of  both  of  us.  There,  now,  that's  honest; 
and  it's  explanation  enough." 

"  I  am  glad  that  in  the  number  of  your  reasons 
you  include  one  in  which  she  is  considered.  The 
others  concerned  only  yourself." 

"  Don't  you  think,  yourself,  that  she  ought  to 
see  life  and  men  of  many  sorts  ?  "  he  asked ;  "  and 
make  her  own  choice  —  not  of  a  husband,  merely, 
but  of  a  path  in  life?  " 

"  What  mischoice  of  a  path  do  you  think  Laura 
could  possibly  make  which  need  give  a  lover 
reason  to  delay  his  suit?  "  81 


The  Millionairess 


"  All  women  are  responsible  for  the  influence 
they  exert  in  their  time,  and  rich  women  have  an 
added  obligation,"  Archie  ventured.  "  Laura 
might  turn  out  to  be  one  of  many  kinds  of  women 
that  a  man  of  intelligence  does  not  admire,  —  a 
fad  mare,  for  instance  :  with  saddle-bags  full  of 
Browning  this  year,  packed  with  '  slumming  ' 
next  year,  or  laden,  the  year  after,  with  ritualistic 
embroidery,  or  palmistry,  or  theosophy.  Or  she 
might  prove  utterly  frivolous  —  a  society  belle." 

"  Do  you  not  know  how  wholly  different  are 
Laura's  pursuits  from  any  of  the  things  you  have 
suggested  —  but,  no,  you  do  not,  will  not  know. 
You  will  not  come  out  of  yourself  long  enough 
to  see  what  she  is  doing  —  she,  a  priceless  gift, 
that  would  be  yours  for  the  mere  asking.  But 
let  us  drop  the  subject.  I  am  never  more  im- 
pressed," Mrs.  Russell  continued,  a  quirk  at  her 
mouth's  corners  and  a  twinkle  in  her  eyes,  "  than 
when  a  clubman  rails  at  women  for  taking  up 
with  trifling  things.  How  much  time  do  club- 
bable men  give  up  to  the  cultivation  of  the  finer 
and  unselfish  sides  of  their  natures  which  such 
women  shut  out  of  their  lives  ?  " 

"  I,  who  do  a  day's  work  six  days  a  week,  and 

82 


The   Millionairess  *£ 

three  hundred  and  thirteen  days  a  year,"  Archie 
replied,  "  am  not  to  be  called  on  to  defend  club- 
life,  but,  for  myself  and  all  men  like  me,  I  can 
say  that  we  yield  to  idle  pleasures  only  the  time 
in  which  we  are  resting  from  labour.  We  do  not 
make  a  business  of  either  pleasure  or  loafing,  and 
if  a  young  girl  like  my  cousin,  with  youth  and 
beauty,  and  a  world  full  of  action  before  her, 
continues  as  she  has  started,  to  frivol  her  life 
away  in  chatter  and  calls  and  teas,  dinners  and 
dances  —  and  slavery  to  dress,  then  I  shall  be 
glad  I  stood  aside,  for  I  want  no  such  companion 
as  that." 

"Archie  Paton,  can  I  talk  to  you  frankly?" 
Mrs.  Russell  inquired,  with  impressive  gravity; 
"  just  as  I  have  always  done?  " 

"  Helen,  I'm  wedged  in  here,  with  no  chance 
of  escape  except  by  the  window.  I  can  only  re- 
mind you  that  he  who  has  the  strength  of  a 
giant  should  use  it  like  a  child." 

"  But  listen,  Archie.  This  is  something  that 
has  been  troubling  other  old  friends;  but,  no, 
I  will  speak  only  for  myself.  Correct  me  if  I 
am  wrong.  You  proposed  to  that  Southern  girl. 
You  suspected  she  cared  more  for  the  property 

83 


The  Millionairess 


she  hoped  you  would  fall  heir  to  than  for  your- 
self. You  told  me  so,  you  know.  You  did  not 
demand  uncommon  wisdom,  in  her  case  ;  you  did 
not  wait  to  study  her  tendencies.  Without  any 
study,  you  must  have  known  she  was  vain  and 
frivolous  —  yet  you  proposed  to  her.  Why  ? 
You  risked  your  future  happiness  in  that  case, 
Archie,  because  your  conscience  told  you  that  you 
were  drifting  away  from  —  from  many  things 
which,  from  your  mother's  knee,  you  had  learned 
to  respect.  Oh,  I  only  mean  that  you  were  be- 
coming wholly  a  man's  man,  a  club-man,  a 
confirmed  bachelor  —  with  all  which  the  term 
implies.  I  have  seen  it  growing,  fixing  itself  upon 
you.  I  noticed  it  when  you  began  to  find  fault 
with  one  woman  after  another,  whose  society  you 
used  to  like;  and,  now,  you  find  little  to  praise 
in  any  woman,  or  any  things  women  do,  or  any 
ways  they  have.  All  drawing-rooms  bore  you 
now,  Archie.  Your  club  sees  more  and  more  of 
you;  the  homes  of  your  married  friends  see  less 
and  less.  You  are  shutting  up  one  whole  great 
side  of  your  nature,  and  expanding  the  other  — 
not  the  masculine  side,  but  —  do  you  mind  my 
saying  what  I  think  ?  " 

84 


The  Millionairess 


"  Would  you  ask  a  frog,  when  you  had  half 
his  skin  off,  whether  he  minded  the  process?" 
Archibald  asked. 

"  It  is  the  selfish  side  you  are  expanding.  You 
are  restive  under  all  discipline,  and  you  shy  at 
the  least  restraint.  The  club,  where  you  can 
smoke  at  all  times,  even  in  the  middle  of  a  meal, 
the  liberty  to  choose  precisely  the  diversions  and 
companions  that  suit  each  mood,  the  freedom  at 
all  hours  and  of  speech  and  companions  —  " 

"  Come,  come  !    Helen,   I  say  !  " 

"  Yes,  Archie  ;  don't  think  I  could  go  too  far. 
I  don't  insinuate  that  you  are  not  still,  and  will 
not  always  be,  a  man  above  the  reproach  of  men, 
above  rudeness  in  any  form.  But  you  are  culti- 
vating yourself  more  and  more,  to  the  exclusion 
of  all  that  does  not  concern  your  whims  and  com- 
fort. And  now  I  come  to  the  point:  you  pro- 
posed haphazard  to  that  girl  from  the  South 
because  you  felt  all  this,  because  your  conscience 
reproached  you,  because  you  feared  that  if  you 
did  not  use  that  girl  to  bring  you  back  to  your 
complete  broad  duty  to  society,  you  soon  would 
lose  the  courage  to  make  such  an  effort." 

A  pause.  A  silence  elastic  —  stretching  to  the 
breaking  point.  85 


The  Millionairess 


"Isn't  it  so,  Archie?" 

A  faint  smile  of  amusement  creeps  over  Paton's 
face,  but  there  comes  no  answer  in  words. 

"  She  threw  you  over  —  bless  her  for  that  - 
and  then  came  your  cousin  Laura.  Had  she 
come  before  the  Southern  girl  you  would  be  mar- 
ried to-day,  and  on  the  way  to  being  the  best  of 
husbands,  and  a  far  happier  man  than  you  are. 
But  the  other  one  came,  with  characteristic  vanity 
and  folly,  at  the  wrong  time  —  and  threw  you 
over.  And  you  sank  back  in  the  leather-cushioned 
chairs  of  the  Madison  Club,  from  which  you  no 
longer  care  to  struggle  to  free  yourself." 

"  Is  it  not  so,  Archie?  "  (Another  long  pause.) 
"Archie!" 

"  If  you  don't  mind,  Helen,"  said  he,  "  I'll  go 
forward  and  smoke  a  cigar." 

"  Leaving  me  to  think  I  should  not  have  spoken 
so  frankly  to  you,  relying  on  our  old  friendship 
and  my  regard  for  you?  " 

"  No,"  he  rejoined,  "  I  am  not  going  to  be  so 
rude  as  not  to  answer  you.     Nor  will  I  let  you 
think  you  may  not  always  talk  to  me  as  you  — 
wrongly  or  rightly  —  think  I  deserve.     But  this 
is  a  very  serious  indictment,  and  I  must  take  coun- 

86 


The  Millionairess 


sel  how  to  reply.  I'll  get  it  out  of  a  cigar.  In 
the  meantime,  Helen,  you  are  one  woman  with 
whom  I  never  will  find  fault  —  with  whom  no 
self-respecting  and  just  man  ever  could  find  fault. 
Tell  Percy  I  said  so,  if  he  ever  dares  to  grumble 
at  you.  As  to  your  dissection  of  my  insignificant 
character,  pray  observe  that  I  am  but  a  creature 
of  the  times.  I  read  very  bad  things  of  the  times 
in  the  reports  of  the  Sunday  sermons.  Some- 
times I  hear  that  this  is  the  age  of  enlightened 
sensuality,  then  that  it  is  the  age  of  materialism 
and  godless  pleasure,  again  that  it  is  the  epoch 
of  dollar-worship,  and  —  still  farther  —  that  it  is 
the  era  of  the  individual,  in  which  every  man  aims 
at  success  for  himself,  regardless  of  the  rights  of 
others.  Oh,  I,  too,  could  preach,  you  see,  but  I 
will  rest  content  with  saying  that  whatever  the 
times  may  be,  I  am  not  responsible  for  being 
their  child." 

"  Since  you  know  the  truth,  Archie,  you  must 
know  that  you  cannot  shift  your  responsibility. 
To  pretend  ignorance  of  that  would  be  to  claim 
idiocy  as  one's  portion." 

"  Thanks,  Helen.  I  do  know  one  thing.  You 
would  learn  it,  too,  if  you  would  smoke,  as  I  am 

87 


The  Millionairess 


going  to  do.  It  is  that  nothing  is  of  very  great 
consequence.  Everything  is  sure  to  end  in  smoke 
—  or  less.  Cigars,  men,  the  dear  ladies,  philoso- 
phy, morals,  cares,  responsibilities  —  all  resolve 
themselves  sooner  or  later  into  smoke." 


88 


VIII. 

HER    VIEWS   UPON  SOCIETY 

"  And  the  greatest  of  these  is  woman."  —  Wiseacre. 

"71  ^URDER !  Murder !  All  about  the  hor- 
JL  rj[  rurble  murder !  "  a  newsboy  shouted, 
as  he  dashed  toward  Archie,  while  he  and  Mrs. 
Russell  were  looking  for  Miss  Lamont's  carriage 
at  the  Fishkill  Station.  "  Evening  Star!  All 
'bout  the  terrible  murder !  "  another  boy  shouted, 
as  he  flung  himself  between  Archie  and  the  car- 
riage step,  as  if  to  prevent  the  inconceivable  error 
of  a  man's  existence  without  the  harrowing 
particulars  of  the  only  sensation  since  breakfast. 
"  Hi,  mister !  Paper !  All  about  the  murder !  " 
a  third  ragamuffin  kept  calling  as  he  ran  beside 
the  moving  coupe. 

"  What  is  it  all  —  do  you  know  ?  "  Mrs.  Russell 
asked. 

"  There  has  been  a  suicide  by  a  young  girl. 
I  read  it  in  the  New  York  papers,"  Archie 

89 


The  Millionairess 


answered.  "  There's  no  suspicion  of  murder, 
as  the  newspaper  people  well  know,  but  in  dis- 
crediting themselves  and  making  their  profession 
ridiculous,  a  certain  class  of  papers  never  misses 
the  minutest  chance  at  perversion,  distortion,  or 
even  naked  lying." 

As  the  carriage  rolled  into  usually  quiet 
little  Powellton,  the  place  was  seen  to  be  very 
much  disturbed.  The  principal  corners  held  knots 
of  idlers,  and  before  the  hotel  a  crowd  of  men 
lounged,  with  half  -expectant,  half-wearied  faces, 
as  if  they  were  tired  of  waiting  for  a  new  wrench 
of  their  tautened  nerves,  and  had  not  quite  given 
up  hoping  for  it.  Two  or  three  loafer-looking 
men  of  the  roughest  city  type,  in  a  knot  by  them- 
selves, Paton  at  once  distinguished  as  detectives. 
A  group  of  well-dressed,  almost  boyish  fellows, 
nervous  in  the  extreme,  some  of  whom  darted  out 
to  peer  in  the  carriage  door  at  our  travellers,  he 
knew  to  be  New  York  reporters. 

"Murder!  Extry  Standard!"  shouted  a 
printer's  devil  from  the  village  newspaper  office, 
with  his  face  against  the  carriage  pane. 

"  Riches,  women,  and  babies  —  *  you  can't 
print  too  much  about  those  three  topics,'  a  great 

90 


The  Millionairess 


editor  once  said  to  me  —  and  the  greatest  of  these 
is  woman,"  Archie  remarked.  "  Woman  mur- 
dering, or  woman  murdered  —  no  matter  which  ; 
but  woman  always." 

With  an  impatience  which  was  at  odds  with 
her  formal  and  elaborate  evening  dress,  Laura 
awaited  the  coming  of  her  cousin  and  her  friend. 
A  year  of  the  activities  of  serious  womanhood 
had  greatly  changed  her.  No  longer  chubby- 
cheeked  and  limpid-eyed,  with  ungoverned  girlish 
lower  lip,  she  was  now  new-modelled  by  the  grace 
of  confident  self-possession  and  radiant  with  in- 
telligence —  that  spark  which  alone  gives  quality 
to  beauty.  She  was  nothing  hardened  by  occa- 
sional ventures  into  fashionable  society,  because 
that  of  her  circle  had  not  been  of  the  most  fashion- 
able, therefore  most  trying  order.  She  had  only 
entered  the  alcove  of  the  throne-room,  where  the 
brilliance  of  the  court  is  merely  reflected.  There- 
fore she  had  simply  been  matured  and  polished, 
instead  of  becoming  petrified  or  btass-plated.  A 
prettier  girl  than  ever,  now;  not  tall  enough  to 
suit  those  who  could  judge  her  coldly,  but  to 
the  greater  number,  who  loved  and  admired  her, 
an  exquisite  blond  beauty.  Her  thoughtful,  sym- 


The  Millionairess 


pathetic  eyes  beneath  her  fine  forehead,  and  above 
her  ripe  mouth  of  goodly  size,  were  the  external 
tokens  of  her  breadth  of  judgment,  her  kindliness 
and  her  capacity  for  everything  worth  any  one's 
pride,  loving  included.  Her  habitual  expression 
—  as  important  a  feature  as  any  that  is  modelled 
in  flesh  —  was  alert,  bright,  sanguine,  kindly. 
Her  taste,  as  seen  in  her  dress  and  home  sur- 
roundings, was  unfalteringly  simple  and  re- 
strained. Above  all  else  was  her  refinement.  She 
was  like  a  lily  even  among  the  gentlest  women  — 
delicate,  exquisite,  chaste  —  all  in  the  simplest, 
purest  way. 

We  have  seen  that  her  house  was  a  casket  fit 
for  the  jewel.  If  we  looked  at  the  jewel  itself 
we  saw  that  its  more  immediate  setting  was 
equally  tasteful.  We  could  not  help  noting  the 
perfect  fit  of  whatever  she  wore,  which  gave  her 
the  triumphant  appearance  of  having  been  melted 
and  poured  into  her  frocks.  At  the  moment  of 
which  I  write,  the  subtle  revelations  of  dress  — 
those  betrayals  for  which  the  Orientals  condemn 
us  as  immodest  and  barbaric  —  showed  that  her 
form  was  maidenly  rather  than  ripe  and  buxom, 
though,  truly,  it  was  buxom  in  the  original 

92 


The  At  il  lion  air  ess  H£ 

sense  of  the  word ;  lithe,  flexible,  and  well  fitted 
for  quick,  graceful  motion. 

"  Oh,  Cousin  Archibald !  I  am  so  glad  to  see 
you." 

She  threw  the  lovely  burden  of  herself  toward 
him  almost  as  if  it  was  for  him  to  take  up  within 
his  arms. 

"  How  d'  do?  "  he  asked,  with  the  tone  that  an 
iceberg  would  use  could  it  speak.  A  stiff  arm  in 
readiness  for  a  stiff  shake  went  with  the  tone,  and 
one  cooled  while  the  other  restrained  the  ardent 
and  demonstrative  maiden. 

"  Hope  you're  well,"  added  the  talking  berg. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come.  But  it  was 
Mrs.  Russell  who  brought  you,  wasn't  it?  " 

"  In  a  way." 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Russell !  How  glad  I  am  to  see 
you !  " 

"  How  sweet  of  you  to  say  so,  Laura." 

The  ramrod-like  butler  in  livery  felt  scandal- 
ised by  the  disparagement  of  the  footman's  ser- 
vices as  doorkeeper,  and  by  a  mistress  who  ran 
out  in  the  garden  to  greet  her  friends,  instead  of 
sitting  within  and  appearing  surprised  when  they 
came  —  a  la  Anglais.  He  felt  that  if  his  mistress 

93 


The  Millionairess 


should  now  send  off  the  footman,  and  insist  upon 
bringing  in  the  bags  and  wraps  from  the  carriage 
his  resignation  must  follow  in  defence  of  his  self- 
respect.  But  much  as  he  felt,  he  still  remained  a 
human  ramrod,  and  the  footman  brought  in  the 
bags  and  wraps  without  interference. 

Renewed  salutations  and  volleys  of  questions, 
flying  to  and  from  each  of  the  women,  consumed 
the  time  the  servants  took  for  the  belongings  of 
the  visitors  to  be  unpacked  and  distributed  - 
night-dresses  on  the  beds  and  slippers  beside  them, 
brushes,  combs,  and  toilet  things  in  their  places, 
clothing  laid  out,  and  the  final  jug  of  hot  water 
in  each  room.  Then  all  went  up-stairs,  and  Laura 
pointed  out  each  room,  following  Mrs.  Russell 
into  hers  to  give  her  "  a  private  real  hug  "  and 
to  whisper  a  little  over  Archie's  coldness. 

"  Don't  like  him  too  much,  dear,"  Mrs.  Russell 
whispered,  in  the  quick  finish  of  that  hug. 

"  Why  ?  Don't  you  admire  Archie  as  much  as 
ever?" 

"  Yes,,  yes,  of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Russell,  "  but 
don't  like  any  man  too  much  —  not  even  a  para- 
gon like  Archie  —  until  you  are  sure  he  will  re- 
turn the  feeling.  Love  is  like  that  other  mystic 

94 


The  Millionairess 


force,  which  requires  a  positive  and  negative  pole 
and  an  unbroken  circuit  between  them  before  it 
has  much  usefulness  or  value." 

"I  thought  you  meant  that,"  said  Laura,  with  a 
gayer  tone,  "but  I  am  really  in  no  need  of  a  warn- 

r 

ing.  I'm  very  grateful  to  him,  and  very  proud 
of  him,  and  I  like  him  —  very  much,  as  you  know. 
But  I  don't  —  a  year  ago,  you  see,  I  was  in  much 
more  danger  ;  that  is,  I  mean,  it  was  different,  for 
then,  if  he  hadn't  avoided  me  all  the  time,  I 
might  have  easily  —  that  is  I  almost  wanted  — 
you  understand." 

"  It  was  natural,  too,"  said  her  companion  of 
the  mind-reading  sex  ;  "  it  was  so  fresh,  then, 
and  all  so  romantic,  wasn't  it?  " 

"  Yes,  you  know,"  from  Laura,  "  I  really 
thought  it  was  my  duty,  and  how  could  any  one 
help  admiring  him?  " 

Helen  Russell's  face  cleared,  and  a  little  sigh 
of  relief  escaped  her.  She  wrongly  fancied  that 
she  knew  how  each  of  these  cousins  felt  toward 
the  other.  Thought  she  :  "  Laura  is  all  gunpow- 
der, waiting  for  a  spark  from  Archie,  but  he  has 
left  his  flint  and  steel  at  the  club  —  in  the  same 
locker  with  his  heart,  I  fear." 

95 


The  Millionairess 


The  butler  came  to  the  drawing-room  door  to 
announce  the  meal,  and  then  Laura  asked  Archie 
to  escort  Mrs.  Russell,  saying  that  she  would 
take  in  her  mother.  They  found  the  splendid  oak- 
wainscoted  dining-room  apparently  untouched, 
yet  strangely  altered  —  in  this,  that  it  glowed 
with  light  which  proceeded  from  no  lamp  or  jet 
or  carbon  loop  which  eye  could  discover.  Laura 
had  caused  manifold  electric  lights  to  be  hidden 
behind  the  top  of  the  oaken  panelling,  and,  above 
that,  she  had  covered  the  wall,  to  the  ceiling,  with 
gold  foil.  Upon  this  the  light  of  the  hidden 
lamps  fell,  to  be  thrown  all  over  the  room,  as 
sunlight  permeates  the  outer  atmosphere.  The 
four  great  portraits  of  dead-and-gone  Lamonts 
stood  out  clearly  upon  the  light-absorbing  walls 
of  deeply  carved  dark  oak,  and,  in  the  middle  of 
the  great  room,  the  table  shone  in  a  red  glow  of 
the  soft  light  of  electric  candles  canopied  by  red 
silk  shades.  In  the  centre  of  the  table  was  a 
mound  of  choice  flowers,  and,  beyond  the  edge  of 
this  gorgeous  bed,  wayward  creepers  of  smilax 
reached  almost  out  to  each  plate.  Spoons  of  great 
size  and  quaint  shapes  from  Holland,  Russia, 
France,  and  England  were  thrown  here  and  there 

96 


The  Millionairess 


upon  the  damask  cloth.  The  cellars  and  pepper- 
casters  were  quite  as  curious,  and  all  the  glass 
was  the  finest,  sparkling  like  colossal  gems. 
Every  course  was  served  by  the  liveried  men- 
servants  from  old  English  silver  upon  dainty 
modern  china. 

At  the  first  glance  around  the  room  and  over 
the  table,  Archie  frowned  an  unspoken  criticism 
of  his  cousin's  extravagance.  Then  his  artistic 
instinct  awoke  and  bade  him  make  note  of  all 
that  he  saw,  for  the  arrangement  was  faultless. 
The  soft,  modulated  light  around  the  walls,  whose 
deep  carvings  shed  black  shadows,  the  table  stand- 
ing forth  in  its  own  rosy  glow,  the  gleam  of 
silver  and  glint  of  crystal,  and  the  blaze  of  soft 
colour,  —  these  combined  the  splendour  and  bal- 
ance of  poetry. 

"  Well,"  said  Paton,  always  keenly  sensitive  to 

• 

such  effects,  and  feeling  sufficiently  at  home  to 
refer  to  them,  "  I  must  say  you  have  renewed 
the  youth  of  this  ancient  dining-hall,  and  with- 
out any  violence  or  profanation." 

"  And  the  table,  dear.  Archie  can  only  see 
the  room,"  said  Mrs.  Russell,  "  but  the  table  is 
too  lovely  for  English  words." 

97 


The  Millionairess 


"  The  wines  are  those  of  which  you  are  fond- 
est, Cousin  Archie,"  Laura  broke  in.  "  This  is 
the  sherry  your  uncle  had  from  his  grandfather. 
You  are  to  have  the  Pontet-Canet  you  liked  so 
much  when  you  were  here  last  time,  —  ages  ago, 
I  am  sorry  to  say,  —  and  after  that  the  '89 
champagne." 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  Archie  replied.  "  If 
good  wines  need  no  bush,  perhaps  it  is  as  fair 
to  say  that  such  a  bush  as  this  needs  no  wine 
at  all.  But  I  will  accept  it  on  the  ground  which 
I  once  heard  an  English  labourer  take  about  his 
beer.  Said  he  :  'A  labouring  man  has  a  right 
to  his  beer  —  if  he  can  get  it.'  You  have  given 
thought  to  table  decoration,  Cousin  Laura;  what 
place  in  the  social  order  does  dining  occupy,  do 
you  think  ?  " 

"  Absolutely  the  first,  I  should  say,"  Laura  re- 
plied, seeing  that  he  meant  to  quiz  her,  and  ap- 
pearing to  humour  him  ;  "  that  is,  the  ladies  I 
know  who  go  in  for  entertaining  all  rank  it  first. 
I  remember  that  Mrs.  Egerton-Wood  once  said 
that  '  in  the  family  circle  novel  dishes,  well 
cooked  and  appetisingly  served,  bring  and  keep 
the  men  at  home.  In  formal  life/  she  said,  '  the 

98 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

character  of  your  dinners  stamps  your  standing 
in  society/  And  Mrs.  Mowbray-Stanton,  who  is 
very  sarcastic,  once  said  to  me,  '  By  giving  elab- 
orate dinners  any  one  may  get  into  the  best  cir- 
cles, and,  if  you  study  men's  tastes  at  table,  you 
may  command  any  man  in  fashionable  life  to 
your  house,  or  any  number  of  men.'  ' 

'  You  are  going  to  be  a  mistress  of  the  art  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  expressing  my  views ;  I  was 
quoting  others,"  Laura  answered.  "  For  myself, 
I'm  afraid  I  most  enjoy  the  pleasure  dining  gives 
to  others,  but  I  meant  only  to  answer  your  ques- 
tion as  to  the  place  dining  holds  in  fashionable 
life." 

"  And  who  has  a  better  right  to  speak  for 
fashionable  life  than  you,  Cousin  Laura?  You 
have  adopted  it  as  your  own  field,  have  you 
not?" 

"  Archie,  do  you  think  what  you  are  doing  is 
quite  fair?  "  Mrs.  Russell  asked. 

"  I  am  merely  getting  Cousin  Laura's  views 
about  society,"  Archie  rejoined.  "  I  did  not 
think  she  would  object." 

"  I  do  not  understand  why  you  ask  if  it  is  fair," 
Laura  said,  turning  to  Mrs.  Russell.  "  Cousin 

99 


The  Millionairess 


Archie  knows  he  may  ask  me  anything  about  my- 
self, and  I  will  answer  frankly.  I  thought  we 
were  just  talking  to  pass  the  time,  but  if  you  want 
my  views  about  society  —  why,  really,  I  have 
never  thought  about  it." 

She  paused  a  moment  to  collect  her  ideas. 

"  During  two  years  I  have  spent  a  few  days 
off  and  on,  in  the  gay  season,  in  town,"  she  con- 
tinued ;  "  I  have  come  to  know  two  sorts  of  peo- 
ple. One  sort  was  nice  enough  —  true  friends 
with  deep  feeling  and  aims  —  and  all  that,  but 
I  had  dull  evenings  with  them.  I'm  not  at  all 
sure  I  shall  think  them  so  dull  if  I  turn  'round  and 
interest  myself  in  the  sewing  and  the  courses  of 
reading  and  the  games  of  whist  and  the  lectures 
and  things  which  they  like.  But  that  takes  time, 
you  know,  and  while  I  was  drifting  into  ever  so 
many  new  acquaintances  in  my  first  winter, 
I  suddenly,  through  your  friends  in  the  Beaux 
Arts  Club,  found  a  door  flung  open  before 
me  upon  the  most  brilliant,  gayest,  what  you 
call  '  smartest  '  life  —  you  understand  —  that  I 
had  ever  seen.  It's  nothing  to  you,  who  have 
been  in  it,  or  were  at  liberty  to  go  in  it,  all  your 
life,  Cousin  Archie,  but  it  was  new  to  me,  and 

100 


The  Millionairess 


I  suppose  I  was  a  little  flattered,  and  one  grand 
event  led  to  another  —  you  understand,  Mrs.  Rus- 
sell —  and,  without  letting  go  my  more  serious 
friends  with  one  hand,  I  reached  out  with  the 
other,  and  so  divided  my  time.  But,  dear  me, 
truly  I  never  thought  or  talked  as  much  about  it 
in  the  whole  time  as  I  have  to-night." 

"  And  it  was  '  all  through  Archie's  friends ' 
that  you  saw  the  thing  he's  been  used  to  all  his 
life,"  Mrs.  Russell  repeated,  with  mischievous  en- 
joyment. "  Oh,  Laura,  you  can  take  care  of 
yourself." 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  want  to,  then  —  or  even 
to  be  on  my  guard,  against  Cousin  Archie," 
Laura  answered. 

Paton  was  about  to  continue  the  subject  when 
the  footman  offered  a  card  to  him  upon  a  salver. 

"What's  that?"  the  novelist  exclaimed. 
"Wants  to  see  me?"  He  adjusted  his  glasses 
to  read  the  card.  "  Bryan  Cross  ?  The  deuce ! 
What's  he  doing  here,  and  how  did  he  know  I 
was  in  Powellton?  " 

"  Bryan  Cross!  "  Laura  exclaimed,  in  her  turn. 
"  Why,  that  is  the  name  of  the  man  who,  the 


101 


The  Millionairess 


papers  say,  discovered  the  murderer  of  the  poor 
girl  whose  body  was  found  in  the  creek." 

"  Just  so,"  Archie  answered  ;  "  I  mean  that 
would  be  just  like  him.  Anything  extraordinary 
is  just  what  one  expects  of  him.  Will  you  ex- 
cuse me?  May  I  ask  him  to  wait,  and  I'll  have 
him  in  here  for  a  cigar  while  I  take  my  coffee. 
Afterward,  if  you  like,  I'll  bring  him  into  the 
drawing-room." 

It  would  have  been  better  for  Laura's  future 
peace  of  mind  had  she  said  she  did  not  care  to 
meet  Mr.  Cross.  But  what  she  did  say  was,  "  Oh, 
do!  I  should  so  like  to  see  him." 

Archie  went*  out,  and  presently  returned. 

"  He  cannot  stay,"  he  said,  as  he  spread  his 
napkin  over  his  knee,  and  began  to  cut  in  small 
pieces  the  anchovy  savoury,  with  which  he  had 
been  served.  "  Now,  tell  me  about  this  murder, 
at  which  Powellton  is  all  agog." 

"  Which  shall  come  first  —  the  murder,  or  an 
account  of  Bryan  Cross  ?  "  was  Laura's  query. 

"  The  .  murder  has  introduced  him  here,  it 
seems." 

"  That  shall  be  first,  then.  Well,  just  beyond 
here  is  a  village  called  Wapata,  of  quarry  and 

1  02 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

mill  hands  —  almost  a  part  of  Powellton,  you 
know.  In  that  place  lived  a  girl  named  Chrys- 
tenah  Muller,  a  daughter  of  a  poor  widow,  and 
about  seventeen  or  eighteen  years  old.  I  noticed 
her  some  rtime  ago,  on  account  of  her  pretty  face 
and  neat  dress,  and  I  saw  her  again  on  the  day  of 
her  death.  She  was  walking  past  the  gate  as  I 
went  out  of  it,  with  her  hands  up  to  her  face, 
crying.  I  turned  toward  her  to  speak  to  her,  to 
get  her  to  tell  me  what  her  trouble  was,  and, 
to  the  longest  day  I  live,  I  shall  be  sorry  I  did 
not  do  so,  for  it  may  be  that  I  could  have  saved 
her  life.  But  two  noisy  boys,  driving  very  slowly 
in  a  grocer's  cart,  came  along,  ana  I  thought  that 
if  I  stopped  her  they  might  stop,  too,  and  then  she 
would  be  ashamed  to  talk  to  me.  That  night  she 
was  either  murdered  or  drowned  herself  in  the 
creek.  She  had  disgraced  herself,  and  it  was  sup- 
posed, until  this  Bryan  Cross  said  he  had  found 
her  murderer,  that  she  had  taken  her  own  life. 
Mr.  Cross  appears  to  know  much  more  than  he 
has  said.  Do  you  know  him  well,  Cousin 
Archie?" 

"  I    never   knew    him    what   you    would    call 
'  well,'  "  said  Archie.     "  We  were  at  Princeton 

103 


The  Millionairess 


together,  where  he  was  the  handsome  man  of  my 
class  —  the  best  speaker  and,  in  a  way,  the  most 
diligent  student.  He  is  the  son  of  a  Baptist  min- 
ister who  owned  the  Clarion,  a  religious  weekly. 
Cross  was  expected  to  become  a  minister,  but  we 
afterward  heard  that  he  could  not  fit  his  beliefs 
to  any  creed,  so  he  travelled  abroad.  Then  his 
father  died,  and  he  took  charge  of  the  Clarion. 
Of  late  years  I  have  not  seen  or  heard  much  of 
him." 

He  paused,  and  then  added,  "  But  it  is  a  mis- 
take to  say  that  he  discovered  the  murderer,  he 
tells  me,  —  or,  indeed,  that  there  was  any  actual 
murder.  '  A  moral  murder  '  is  what  he  calls  the 
crime.  And  he  says  that  not  he,  but  some  one 
we  all  know,  a  member  of  the  Boozers,  is  the 
discoverer  of  the  '  moral  murderer.'  ' 

"  A  member  of  the  Boozers,"  Mrs.  Russell  ex- 
claimed. 

"  Why,  who?  "  Laura  asked. 

"  Courtlandt  Beekman,"  was  Archie's  reply. 
"  But  that,  I  believe,  is  not  to  be  publicly  known. 
Beekman  came  up  with  Cross  to  pass  the  time, 
and  studied  and  mastered  the  case.  I  do  not 
suppose  it  took  any  genius  or  exceptional  amount 

104 


The  Millionairess  && 

of  brains,  but  it  is  the  fashion  to  think  that  every- 
thing the  fellow  does  is  wonderful,  and  I  do  not 
doubt  you  ladies  will  follow  the  fashion.  A  man 
who  can  make  such  revelations  of  affairs,  which 
other  men  would  feel  that  they  could  not  keep  suf- 
ficiently private  —  as  he  did  in  his  examination 
for  admission  to  the  Boozers'  Club,  the  other  day, 
and  still  keep  the  esteem  of  nice  people  —  is  really 
a  wonderful  person,  I  must  say." 

"Archie,  why  do  you  dislike  him  so?"  Mrs. 
Russell  asked. 

"  I  don't ;   I  see  through  him,  that's  all." 

"  Oh,  then,  Mr.  Beekman  is  here,"  Laura  ex- 
claimed, with  an  eagerness  which  betrayed  itself. 

"  No,  he  went  back  to  New  York  this  morn- 
ing," Paton  replied,  with  a  satisfaction  he  took 
no  pains  to  conceal. 

Thereafter  Laura  was  silent,  feeling  so  much 
more  than  she  cared  to  risk  saying. 


105 


IX. 

«  YOU  ARE  ALSO   GUILTY" 

"  Oh,  wearisome  condition  of  humanity  !  " —  Lord  Brooke. 

rHE  inquest  into  the  cause  of  Teenah 
Muller's  death  was  held  in  the  lodge-room 
of  the  Wapata  Hotel,  the  largest  apartment 
in  the  village.  The  hour  set  for  the  beginning 
of  the  inquiry  was  ten,  but  the  crowd  came 
much  earlier.  By  ten  o'clock  the  younger  bump- 
kins, a  juror  or  two,  and  even  the  coroner,  were 
over  supplied  with  that  elixir  which  is  contrarily 
declared  to  be  such  a  preservative  that  one  always 
finds  the  "  oldest  inhabitant  "  beside  each  village 
bar,  and  such  a  poison  that  the  only  uncertain 
thing  about  any  bottle  of  it  is  the  exact  number  of 
rods  at  which  it  will  destroy  life.  The  sheds  in 
the  rear  had  proven  so  insufficient  for  all  the  arriv- 
ing teams  that  the  stable  yard  itself  was  filled 
with  buggies  and  carryalls.  For  two  hours  be- 
fore ten  o'clock  the  barroom  had  been  packed 

1 06 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

with  enlightened  American  citizens,  in  soft  hats 
and  misfitting  clothes  of  weird  design,  who 
walked  about  as  if  the  floor  was  made  of  frozen 
ploughshares,  and  kept  falling  over  each  other's 
boots  in  the  process.  They  slipperied  the  floor 
with  toba'cco  juice,  and  handled  their  cigars  as 
if  their  hands  were  seals'  flippers,  fumbling  them 
about  on  the  bar,  and  dropping  them  once  or 
twice  before  they  finally  got  their  pursed-out  lips 
around  the  middle  of  each  weed.  They  swore 
a  great  deal,  without  either  reason  or  skill,  and 
laughed  like  horses.  However,  they  were  happy, 
and  were  breaking  no  law  of  which  they  knew. 
Every  jar  which  country  monotony  gets  has  to 
be  celebrated  in  this  way  —  even  a  suicide  —  and 
already  Teenah  Muller  dead  was  worth  more  to 
Parker,  the  publican,  than  all  the  live  women  in 
Wapata  had  ever  been  to  any  man  in  his  line. 

The  local  squire,  the  sheriff  in  his  silk  hat,  the 
old  and  the  young  lawyer  of  the  village,  the  con- 
stable, and  two  of  the  younger  merchants  were  all 
in  a  row,,  on  the  broad  front  porch  of  the  hotel. 
Those  nearest  the  six  heavy  supports  of  the 
porch  roof  had  their  feet  well  up  on  them,  on  a 
line  with  their  breasts,  and  were  tilting  back  in 

107 


The  Millionairess 


their  chairs.  The  two  merchants  who  had  no 
posts,  and  therefore  no  place  to  put  their  feet,  in 
order  to  feel  at  ease,  hung  one  or  both  legs  over 
their  chair  arms.  Presently  the  coroner  came 
from  the  hotel  parlour,  and  looked  about  him  to 
note  the  stir  his  appearance  was  certain  to  make. 
Being  a  coroner  only  once  or  twice  a  year,  and 
a  saddle-maker  the  rest  of  the  time,  his  official 
importance  kept  its  full  freshness.  He  was  with 
Bryan  Cross,  with  whom  he  seemed  mightily 
taken. 

"  You  kin  hint  pretty  close  to  who  you're  givin' 
it  to,"  he  said,  with  a  whiskey-thickened  tongue, 
"  but  you  mushn't  speak  out  nary  a  name,  nohow, 
er  you'll  be  had  up  for  libill.  An'  now,  ez  I  told 
ye  afore,  fly  high,  even  if  you  light  low,  but  don't 
tackle  no  bird  that  you  can't  git  away  with.  '  Be 
sure  yer  right,'  's  Davy  Crockett  used  ter  say, 
'  then  let  her  go,  Gallagher.'  ' 

At  the  first  glance,  you  might  have  thought 
Bryan  Cross  was  an  actor.  Even  at  the  second 
and  third  look,  you  could  not  feel  certain  that  he 
was  not.  He  had  all  the  earmarks  of  the  player, 
the  mobile  features,  the  suggestion  of  effeminacy, 
the  peculiar  prettiness,  the  apparently  studied 

1  08 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

mannerisms  in  every  pose  and  movement.  He 
was  of  the  age  (twenty-nine)  and  the  graceful 
form  to  play  Melnotte  or  D'Artagnan,  and  needed 
no  make-up  to  impersonate  the  love-lorn  Italian, 
Romeo,  sor  jet  black  was  the  longish  hair  that 
was  thrown  back  from  his  thin  but  finely  chiselled 
face.  Its  every  feature  was  highly  sensitive.  His 
large  black  eyes  were  full  of  feeling,  the  wide 
nostrils  that  terminated  his  Grecian  nose  quivered 
when  he  was  excited;  his  mouth  was  the  instru- 
ment of  an  orator,  large,  thick-lipped,  but  also 
very  shapely. 

"  Come  along,  Mr.  Cross,"  said  the  coroner, 
dissatisfied  with  the  stir,  after  all,  since  nine- 
tenths  of  it  was  obviously  made  by  the  appearance 
of  the  striking  youth  beside  him.  "  H'are  ye, 
counsellor?  H'are  ye,  sheriff?  H're  ye,  gentle- 
men ?  Good-morning.  Comin'  in  to  see  the  fun  ? 
Coin'  to  be  a  leetle,  I  reckon." 

As  they  passed  through  the  crowd  in  the  bar- 
room, the  coroner  paused  again,  and  whispered 
to  Bryan :  "  Now,  fly  high,  young  feller,  but  you 
want  to  be  dam  sure  and  not  tackle  no  bird  that 
you  can't  git  away  with." 

The  crowd  broke,  and  hurried  to  the  lodge- 

109 


The  Millionairess 


room  ahead  of  the  coroner,  so  that  Bryan  and  he 
and  the  reporters  had  difficulty  in  getting  to  the 
raised  platform  at  the  far  end  of  the  room.  When 
the  witnesses  were  called,  the  constable  was 
obliged  to  sift  them  through  the  crowd  by  push- 
ing two  or  three  men  out  of  the  door,  and  then 
pulling  back  each  man  ahead  of  him  as  he  led  the 
way  to  the  desk.  The  evidence  taken  was  wholly 
unsensational.  Chrystenah  Muller,  called  "  Tee- 
nah  "  by  friends  and  strangers  alike,  was  found 
lying  in  Dockstader's  creek,  apparently  drowned, 
on  a  certain  day.  She  was  eighteen  years  old, 
and  had  lived  in  Wapata  with  her  mother,  a 
widow,  who  asked  the  coroner,  "  How  cood  I 
look  all  der  vhile  afder  von  girl,  vhen  I  got  nine 
more  children,  und  make,  der  same  dime,  a  liffing, 
alretty  ?  "  She  said  her  daughter  had  been  a 
steady  girl  until  a  year  ago.  Then  she  ceased 
to  work,  and  began  to  be  disobedient  and  im- 
pudent, leading  a  stormy  life  at  home,  with  snubs 
and  chilly  glances  from  her  neighbours.  The 
mother  did  not  know  who  "  kept  company  "  with 
Teenah.  None  of  the  neighbourhood  youths  were 
good  enough  for  her,  she  said. 

There  was  the  usual  formal  evidence  as  to  the 

no 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

finding  of  the  body,  and  the  doctor's  evidence, 
which  showed  that  there  was  an  incentive  for 
suicide. 

Then  the  coroner,  pulling  Bryan  over  to  him, 
and  whispering  his  injunction  regarding  high 
flying  and  ^caution  with  other  birds,  announced 
that  Mr.  Bryan  Cross  would  state  what  he  knew 
of  the  case. 

"  Gentlemen,"  Bryan  began,  his  thin  earnest 
face  in  sight  of  every  one,  "  I  came  here  out  of 
curiosity,  with  a  distinguished  friend,  who,  be- 
coming interested  in  this  sad  affair,  investigated 
it.  He  found  it  a  case  of  murder,  gentlemen  — 
wait,  do  not  interrupt  me.  My  friend  led  me, 
step  by  step,  from  the  finding  of  the  body  to  the 
discovery  of  the  murderer,  and  satisfied  me  that 
there  could  be  no  mistake.  I  know  who  the 
murderer  is,  how  he  committed  the  crime  —  every 
important  detail  of  the  shocking  story;  and  the 
main  points  I  am  going  to  make  known  to  you. 
But  there  is  one  here  who  could  tell  the  facts  even 
better  than  I.  The  murderer  himself  is  here,  in 
this  room,  listening,  looking  at  me.  He  is  here 
because  he  is  not  afraid.  He  knows  that  I  will 
not  name  him;  that  you,  Mr.  Coroner,  the  most 

in 


The  Millionairess 


powerful  official  in  the  county,  cannot  lay  a  hand 
upon  him." 

When  the  speaker  said  that  the  murderer  was 
in  the  room  the  effect  was  impressive.  There  was 
a  second's  silence,  and  then  a  stir  made  by  nearly 
every  man,  turning  to  look  at  his  neighbours. 
Two  men,  marked  apart  from  the  crowd  by  their 
faces  and  clothing,  became  the  butts  of  the  threat- 
ening glances  of  all  who  were  close  to  them.  One 
was  Archibald  Paton,  and  the  other  a  rich  young 
man  of  the  neighbourhood,  a  Mr.  Harold  Kim- 
ball. 

"  The  murderer  who  feels  so  safe  that  he  can 
venture  in  this  place  to  hear  me  depict  his  scoun- 
drelism,  in  what  strength  of  language  I  can  com- 
mand, knew  her,  yet  he  never  visited  her  home, 
never  wrote  to  her,  never  showed  himself  by 
her  side  in  her  own  village,  as  an  honest  friend 
would,  in  the  many  months  of  their  companion- 
ship. He  met  her  along  the  roads  beyond  the 
town,  in  his  carriage,  and  only  showed  himself 
beside  her  in  other  villages,  where  they  were 
known  together  as  you  honest  citizens  are  known 
with  your  wives.  He  was  generous  with  her  in 
little  things  —  in  the  meanest,  smallest  way.  I 

!T2 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

mean  that  he  gave  her  brooches  and  rings  and 
a  watch  and  the  price  of  a  railway  ticket,  with 
which  she  took  herself  off  when  he  tired  of  her. 
These  things  she  did  not  ask  for,  but  when  she 
came  back,  in  dire  need,  really  requiring  some- 
thing of  kim  at  last,  he  refused  her.  And  for 
what  did  she  ask,  do  you  think  ?  I  am  not  invent- 
ing. I  have  had  repeated  to  me  by  one  of  her 
companions  Teenah's  own  account  of  what  led 
up  to  the  murder.  She  asked  to  be  married. 
Poor  little  toy,  who  did  not  know  she  was  a  toy 

—  who  thought  that  the  man  who  said  he  loved 
her  possessed  a  nature  above  that  of  a  dumb  ani- 
mal.    He  refused  her  this  return  for  her  trust  — 
this  bit  of  justice.    He  was  not  even  like  a  dumb 
animal  to  her.     Alas!    few  dumb  animals  are  as 
base  as  man  can  prove  himself. 

"  He  offered  to  give  her  money,  which  was  a 
further  insult,  but  she  only  begged  him  to  undo 
the  wrong  they  both  had  done,  and  reestablish 
her  in  the  good  opinion  of  her  neighbours. 
After  scorching  her  with  his  passion  in  one 
form,  he  struck  her  down  with  it  in  another 

—  that   of  anger.     Angrily,   with   scorn   which 
seared  her,  and  with  bitter,  cutting  words,  he 


The  Millionairess 


pushed  her  from  his  carriage  on  last  Monday 
evening,  saying  that  he  had  had  enough  of  her. 
In  twenty-four  hours  she  was  found  dead  in 
Dockstader's  creek.  That  was  how  her  life  was 
taken.  These  were  the  weapons  which  destroyed 
it.  Do  I  do  wrong  to  call  the  case  a  murder  ?  " 
Some  one  in  the  crowd  of  listeners  whispered 
that  he  had  seen  the  girl  in  another  village  with 
Harold  Kimball.  Mysteriously,  like  a  flash,  the 
word  ran  all  over  the  room.  When  the  orator 
paused,  all  turned  and  faced  Kimball.  He  was 
in  the  middle  of  the  throng,  and  the  angry,  venge- 
ful looks  of  all  the  others  flew  to  that  common 
centre,  like  the  spokes  of  a  swift-whirling  wheel. 
The  strain  upon  every  one  was  fearful.  It  seemed 
that  the  breath  of  every  man  stopped,  and  all  their 
hearts  pounded  heavily  in  their  breasts.  A  tem- 
pest of  passion,  strong  enough  to  carry  such  a 
crowd  to  any  lengths,  was  at  its  bursting  point. 
Paton,  realising  that  he,  as  a  well-dressed 
stranger,  might  easily  be  pitched  upon  as  the 
murderer,  admitted,  afterward,  that  he  wished 
himself  away.  He  could  not  see  the  real  sus- 
pect, and  did  not  know  that  the  suppressed  vio- 
lence had  already  marked  other  prey. 

114 


The   Millionairess  HS- 

"  It's  Kimball !  Out  with  the  damned  scoun- 
drel! Lynch  him!  "  a  man  near  the  door  called 
out. 

"  Lynch  him !  Out  with  him !  "  cried  several 
others. 

A  half-tipsy  man,  close  to  Kimball,  seized  his 

arm,  and  called  out :  "  I've  got  the  dog. 

Some  one  get  the  rope." 

Though  Kimball  was  as  white  as  his  shirt- 
front,  his  nerve  stayed  by  him.  "  Tajce  your 
hand  off  me !  "  he  commanded,  and  in  a  tone 
which  might  have  cowed  a  rioter  less  tipsy  and 
less  influenced  by  the  passion  of  the  crowd.  The 
man  gripped  Kimball's  arm  the  tighter,  and 
pulled  him  along,  as  the  crowd  began  to  sway  in 
a  solid  mass  toward  the  door. 

"  Leave  that  man  alone.  You  are  as  guilty  as 
he !  "  Bryan  Cross  shouted.  His  voice  when 
raised  had  a  trumpet  tone,  and  now  it  rang  loud 
and  clear. 

The  mass  of  men  swayed  back,  and  then  stood 
still, 

"  You  are  as  guilty  as  he  —  if  he  is  the  mur- 
derer," said  Cross;  "but  I  have  named  no  man, 
and  will  name  none.  Constable,  see  that  man 


The  Millionairess 


safely  out  of  the  door.  Whoever  wants  to  dis- 
grace this  town  further  by  doing  him  harm  can 
find  him  later  in  the  day,  but  when  you  have 
heard  me  out,  you  will  not  lay  a.  hand  on  him." 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  said  Cross,  when  Kimball 
was  got  safely  out,  "  be  sure  that  the  murderer, 
whoever  he  is,  has  heard  my  words,  and,  in  his 
soul,  is  punished  by  this  exposure.  But  how 
foolish  you  were  to  indulge  in  violence  and  threats 

—  thus  taking  into  your  own  use  the  very  weapon 
with  which  I  told  you  Teenah  Muller  was  mur- 
dered.    Is  it  possible  you  did  not  understand 
me?    She  was  killed  by  the  very  thing  that  just 
possessed  you  all  —  by  passion.    What  matters  it 
that  the  murderer's  passion  was  lust,  and  yours 
was  hate,  or  anger  ?    Ungovernment  of  ourselves, 
self-indulgence,  self-surrender,  loss  of  self-control 

—  these  are  the  weapons  we  all  are  constantly 
carrying  to  make  every  one  of  us  unfit  to  pass 
judgment  on  a  crime  of  violence.    These  are  the 
crying  evils  of  our  age,  the  mockers  of  American 
civilisation.    The  murderer  of  Teenah  Muller  sent 
her  to  her  death  by  simply  letting  go  of  himself. 
Tens  of  thousands  —  most  of  us  —  even  you  and 
I  —  are  as  guilty  as  he,  in  other  ways,  by  the 

116 


The   Millionairess 


same  fault.  All  alike,  we  avoid  self-discipline. 
We  lose  control  of  our  judgment  and  our  tem- 
pers, as  he  did  of  his  desires.  He  ran  unbridled, 
rough-shod,  over  a  young  girl.  But  what  of  us? 
We  strike  our  fellow  men  or  curse  them  —  things 
this  murderer  did  not  stoop  to  do.  We  are  all 
possessed  by  devils  that  WTC  could  cast  out  with 
very  little  effort,  yet  that  little  we  refuse  to  exert. 
We  quarrel  with  our  faithful  wives,  we  exhaust 
the  high  pressure  of  our  impatient  humours  upon 
our  servants  and  workhands,  we  lash  our  dumb 
animals  (that  are  so  much  better  than  most  of 
us),  and  punish  our  children  in  anger,  when  pun- 
ishment is  wasted,  and  often  reacts  on  ourselves. 
The  fiend  Anger  is  the  great  red  American  Devil. 
It  is  in  nearly  all  of  us.  It  fills  our  land  with 
murders,  lynchings,  negro-burnings,  riots,  strikes, 
stabbings,  shootings  —  God  alone  knows  what  all! 
Nearly  all  of  us,  I  say,  are  possessed  of  the  devil 
Anger,  and  his  cousin,  Self-will.  The  most  of 
us  have  other  devils  as  well  —  rum-thirst,  lust  for 
power  or  for  women,  or  love  of  pleasure,  or  malice 
or  envy  —  all  the  imps  which  stir  those  passions 
that  we  must  control  if  we  wish  to  be  believed 
when  we  boast  that  we  are  better  than  our  brutes. 

117 


The  Millionairess 


"  Take  these  things  home,  and  think  them  over, 
you  who  kill  your  own  happiness,  as  Teenah 
Muller  killed  hers,  before  she  took  her  own  life. 
When  you  damn  an  importunate  beggar,  think 
how  much  meaner  than  he  you  have  made  your- 
self. When  you  push  a  too  persistent  newsboy 
out  of  your  way,  take  your  hat  off  to  the 
devil  who  is  riding  you.  When  you  slap  your 
child,  in  a  moment  of  petulance,  it  must  be  that  he 
is  only  a  devil's  brat,  or  you  couldn't  do  it.  Think 
of  that!  And  when  you  strike  a  man  in  a  fit 
of  choler,  think  of  Teenah  Muller,  found  face 
down,  in  a  mud-hole,  and  remember  that  her 
murderer  was  not  so  great  a  brute  as  you. 

"  I  should  have  liked  to  find  that  Teenah 
Muller  died  by  a  stab  of  steel  instead  of 
from  mere  uncontrolled  passion.  I  should  have 
gloried  in  naming  her  slayer,  and  handing  him 
over  to  punishment  —  which  only  your  scorn  can 
impose  in  this  case.  But  she  was  slain  by  no 
weapon  or  drug  that  your  honoured  coroner  can 
recognise  as  murderous.  Still,  I  did  learn  the 
cause  of  her  death,  and  I  would  have  been  selfish 
and  cowardly  if  I  had  not  come  here  to  make 
it  public.  Put  it  in  your  verdict,  gentlemen,  that 

118 


The  Millionairess  HS- 

Teenah  Muller,  through  failure  to  govern  her- 
self, strayed  in  the  path  of  Passion,  and  was  de- 
voured by  it.  Add  a  rider  saying  that  the  same 
lack  of  self-control  (or  call  it  a  dementia  of 
Egoism  if  you  can  understand  what  that  means), 
is  poisoning"  a  myriad  lives  with  anger,  worry, 
lust,  surrender  to  pleasure,  envy,  malice.  Add 
that  this  is  a  dead  load  we  are  carrying,  yet  that 
each  of  us  can  easily  lift  off  his  own  portion; 
that  it  is  a  fearful  epidemic,  and  yet  that  every 
afflicted  man  can  easily  doctor  himself;  that  the 
only  effort  needed  is  will-power,  the  only  neces- 
sary drug  is  resolution.  Accomplish  the  general 
use  of  these,  and  we  shall  all  be  happier  and 
richer,  and  America  will  indeed  be  the  greatest 
country  in  the  world." 


119 


X. 

TESTING   A    CRUSADER'S  SWORD 

"  Who  made  the  yawning  gulf  'twixt  thee  and  others? 

Know  —  know  thyself  —  live  with  the  world  in  peace."  —  Goethe. 

HILE  all  were  at  breakfast,  on  the 
morning  after  the  inquest,  Bryan 
Cross  was  announced,  and  bustled  in  with  an 
armful  of  newspapers,  —  a  boyish,  impetuous  fel- 
low in  spite  of  his  twenty-nine  or  thirty  years. 
It  was  with  an  evident  effort  that  he  paused  to 
be  introduced  to  the  ladies,  before  he  flung  him- 
self on  a  sofa,  declaring  that  he  had  already 
broken  his  fast,  and  exclaimed :  "  There  are  fif- 
teen columns  about  the  inquest  in  these  six  papers ! 
My !  It  has  made  a  sensation !  Look  at  the 
Herald,  a  picture  of  me  that  has  been  made  over 
from  an  old  woodcut  of  Lincoln,  to  judge  by  its 
looks.  And  here's  the  World,  with  a  cut  of  what 
it  calls  '  the  attempted  lynching,'  showing  me 
with  a  fist  like  a  ham,  about  to  pulverise  half  a 
dozen  men  at  once." 

1 20 


rOU  HAVE   MADE   A   GREAT 
STIR,  HAVEN'T  YOU?'" 


The  Millionairess  Hfr 

"  Oh,  do  let  me  see,  Mr.  Cross,"  Laura  said. 
'  You  have  made  a  great  stir,  haven't  you?  " 

"  Stir?  Why,  I  wouldn't  have  dreamed  of 
such  good  fortune,"  said  Bryan.  "  It  gives  me 
the  opening  I've  prayed  for  —  all  in  a  day.  I  did 

p 

not  know  it  was  coming;   I  only  knew  it  had  to 
be  —  and  here  it  is." 

"  How  astonishing !  See,  Cousin  Archie ; 
here's  a  whole  broadside  about  him,"  Laura  ex- 
claimed, catching  fire  from  Cross.  "  '  Hands  off ! 
You  are  as  guilty  as  he ! '  in  letters  across  four 
columns.  Oh,  I  must  read  every  word  of  it." 

"  I  never  read  anything  about  murders,  but 
I  will  have  to  break  the  rule  for  this  occasion," 
Mrs.  Russell  said. 

"  How  do  you  mean  that  this  does  what  you 
want,  Cross  ?  "  Paton  inquired ;  "  what  sort  of 
opening  has  it  given  you  ?  " 

"  A  chance  to  talk,  man,"  Cross  exclaimed  — 
"  to  talk  —  to  say  what's  in  me.  To  rip  and 
smash  at  the  wrong  tendencies  of  the  time,  and 
set  the  people  thinking  —  set  them  to  seeing 
what  terrible  agencies  are  at  work  among  us." 

He  spoke  with  intense  excitement,  his  eyes 
sparkling  and  his  voice  rising  as  he  talked. 

121 


The   Millionairess 


"  What's  so  wrong  about  things  ?  " 

"  What?  "  Bryan  echoed  with  spirit.  "  What's 
wrong?  Oh,  don't  start  me  on  what's  wrong. 
Everything  —  all  the  things  that  are  separating 
poor  and  rich,  setting  up  Brother  Leisure  and 
Brother  Labour  as  enemies,  in  opposing  camps. 
All  the  things  that  are  creating  classes  in  America 
—  and  these  appear  to  be  most  things,  once  you 
begin  to  look  into  them.  Individualism  which 
ignores  common  interests,  the  idolatry  of  the 
dollar,  commercial  immorality,  the  misuse  of 
capital  by  monopolies,  their  pressure  upon  legisla- 
tures, and  the  spread  of  shoddy  notions  of  aris- 
tocracy. Did  you  ever  think  of  it?  Rightly,  the 
blight  of  fashionable  life  begins  at  the  flower 
and  seed  of  spent  families,  but,  with  us,  it  is 
reaching  down  to  the  ranks  of  the  clerks  in  the 
very  shoe  stores,  down  among  those  who  should 
be  the  robust  stalk  of  society,  just  above  the  roots 
which  are  the  toilers,  who  must  be  the  strength 
and  hope  of  every  nation  that  can  boast  of  hope." 

Laura  turned  in  her  chair,  astonished  and 
thrilled.  Earnestness  like  that  was  new  and  won- 
derful to  her. 

"  You've  got  an  army  contract,  apparently," 

122 


The   Millionairess  H£ 

Archie  commented,  over  his  egg  and  steaming 
roll. 

"  Not  when  one  feels  his  mission  and  his 
power;  its  size  only  spurs  one  to  give  it  harder 
battle,"  said  Cross. 

"  I  know  —  but  '  what's  the  use  ?  '  '  Archie 
said,  echoing  the  motto  of  his  Bohemian  guild ; 
"what's  the  use?  I've  seen  something  of  all 
that  you  speak  of,  and  have  thought  of  writing  it 
into  my  books,  but  the  world  would  roll  along  in 
its  old  way  over  my  books,  as  it  will  over  your 
speeches  —  as  it  does  over  even  its  Himalayas 
and  Alps,  by  the  way." 

"  Perfect!  Splendid!  "  Cross  shouted,  and,  in 
his  nervous  way,  whipped  out  of  his  pocket  a 
small  notebook  and  pencil.  Then  he  began  to 
write  hastily.  "  Excuse  me  a  moment,"  said  he; 
"  I  just  wanted  to  put  down  what  you  said  — 
every  word  of  it.  It  exactly  reflects  the  conditions 
I  mean  to  sail  into.  '  What's  the  use?  '  that's  a 
text  for  a  scorching  lecture  on  the  apathy  and 
indifference  which  are  all*  around  us,  even  where 
we  should  look,  as  in  the  case  of  intelligent  men 
like  you,  for  hearty,  stiff-backed  opposition  to 
the  evils  that  are  sapping  our  virtues  and  strength 
as  a  nation."  123 


The  Millionairess 


"  Humph/'  Archie  said,  drily,  "  I  don't  doubt 
I  could  give  you  many  such  points.  Stick  to  me, 
Cross,  and  I'll  equip  you  for  a  whole  campaign." 

"  I  am  sure,"  Laura  interposed,  "  it's  very 
noble  of  Mr.  Cross  —  though  I  don't  understand 
these  things  that  are  so  terrible." 

"  My  campaign,  as  you  term  it,  begins  at  once," 
Cross  continued.  "  I  am  to  speak  at  the  funeral 
of  the  poor  girl  —  at  her  grave,  to-morrow  — 
and  all  the  reporters  are  to  be  there,  so  that  my 
chance  to  rivet  public  attention  to  what  I  talked  of 
at  the  inquest  will  be  as  good  as  it  could  possibly 
be,  and  it  will  depend  only  on  myself  whether  I 
am  to  begin  a  useful  career  at  last.  I  tried  to  do 
it  in  The  Clarion,  but  its  readers  are  the  narrow- 
est, and  as  I  am  very  liberal,  I  simply  killed  it  — 
or  all  but  that." 

"  You  are  going  to  remain  in  the  village, 
then?  "  Laura  inquired.  "  Won't  you  do  us  the 
honour  to  stay  here?  Let  me  send  to  the  hotel 
for  your  things." 

"  Thank  you  ;  I  should  like  that  very  much," 
Bryan  answered.  "  I  am  rather  tangled  up  with 
the  crowd  at  the  hotel.  I  move  in  a  regiment,  as 
it  were  —  of  reporters  and  idlers  and  cranks.  I 

124 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

had  seven  men  in  my  room  when  I  began  to  un- 
dress for  bed,  last  night.  It's  novel,  I'll  admit, 
to  feel  as  if  you  were  a  large  part  of  the  public, 
but  it  begins  to  wear  on  you  in  time.  I'd  rather 
get  my  things  myself,  if  I  may,  and  drive  away 
as  if  to  Fishkill,  so  as  to  come  here  without  be- 
traying my  destination;  otherwise  your  garden 
would  soon  be  as  full  of  my  tormentors  as  it  now 
is  of  blades  of  grass  and  flowers." 

"  You  shall  be  perfectly  safe  and  quiet  here," 
Laura  said.  "  We'll  instruct  the  servants  that 
you  are  not  to  be  disturbed.  Well,  gentlemen, 
we  will  leave  you  to  your  cigars  and  newspapers." 

After  the  three  ladies  retired,  with  a  stiff  bit 
of  human  timber  in  livery  holding  the  door  open 
for  them,  the  men  disposed  of  themselves  in  pos- 
tures more  comfortable  than  elegant,  and  fell 
upon  their  newspapers. 

"  Well,  Cross,  you  certainly  have  made  a  sen- 
sation," said  Archie.  "  In  our  days  everybody 
gets  newspaper  distinction.  Shop-girls  enjoy 
their  portraits  in  the  Sunday  papers,  and  even 
my  '  guinney '  bootblack  carries  a  half-column 
clipping  about  himself  in  his  pocket-book,  but 
three-column  spreads  with  scare  head-lines  are 

125 


The  Millionairess 


the  rewards  of  few,  and  the  hope  of  still  less.  I 
must  say  you  deserve  it  even  better  than  the 
average  reader  will  think,  for  what  you  said 
does  not  read  a  hundredth  part  as  it  sounded. 
You  are  a  born  orator.  You  made  me  tingle,  I 
confess." 

"  I  believe  that  what  I  said  had  never  been 
spoken  before,  though  I  got  my  cue  from  a  well- 
known  little  book  of  American  philosophy.  But 
I  will  do  better  at  the  cemetery,  for  I  have  leave 
to  talk  an  hour." 

They  continued  to  read  the  papers,  and  pres- 
ently the  eye  of  Bryan  Cross  fell  upon  something 
that  sent  the  blood  rushing  to  his  face.  It  was 
a  small  paragraph  which  he  read  again  and  again. 
As  he  did  so  his  chin  fell  lower  and  lower,  the 
muscles  which  had  held  his  body  so  rigidly  and 
proudly  erect  relaxed,  and  he  sat  limp  and  bent 
upon  the  sofa,  a  dejected  caricature  of  the  man 
who  had  come  into  the  room  like  a  crowned  hero. 

"  See  here,  old  man,"  he  said  to  Archie.  "  I 
must  ask  you  to  let  me  bore  you  a  minute." 

"  Go  ahead,"  Archie  replied. 

"  Well,  you  know  when  The  Clarion  began  to 
run  down,  and  it  was  evident  that  it  would  soon 

126 


The   Millionairess  HS- 

cease  to  pay,  I  put  it  in  the  market,  and  began 
to  look  around  for  something  else  to  do.  I 
thought  of  reporting  as  a  makeshift  which  might 
lead  to  something  better,  and  I  went  to  Sam 
Woodruff,  our  old  classmate,  you  know,  who  is 
city  editor  of  the  Evening  Star.  He  offered  to 
let  me  start  a  religious  column  in  the  Saturday 
paper,  and  I  did  it,  and  it  has  gone  well.  Now, 
here  is  a  letter  in  The  Chronicle,  saying  that  I 
wrote  that  column,  but  that  it  was  only  done  to 
hide  my  real  work,  which  was  the  exposure  of 
church  scandals  in  the  paper.  My  Heavens!  It 
is  terrible!  Just  as  I  have  made  myself  the  op- 
portunity of  my  life  —  to  see  the  door  dashed  in 
my  face  like  that !  " 

"  Why?  Do  you  mean  that  the  charge  is  true? 
Let  me  see  what  it  says,"  Archie  replied,  taking 
the  paper  and  reading  the  paragraph.  "  Did  you 
'  pry  into  the  differences  between  pastors  and 
their  flocks,  and  magnify  the  peccadilloes  of  the 
clergy  into  crimes  as  well  as  distort  worthless 
rumours  into  nauseous  sensations  '  ?  " 

"  Never.  On  my  word  that  is  a  lie,  but  it  has 
just  basis  enough  to  damage  me  as  if  it  were  true. 
I  wrote  news  of  the  churches  —  whatever  it  was, 

127 


The  Millionairess 


as  it  came  along.  And  if  there  was  trouble  in 
a  church,  or  a  quarrel  between  a  minister  and  his 
vestrymen  or  elders,  or  whoever,  I  wrote  the 
bare  facts  —  just  as  I  wrote  the  news  that  was 
good,  or  that  which  was  of  an  indifferent  tenor. 
In  six  months  I  only  reported  five  or  six  scandals. 
It  was  the  city  editor  who  took  these  paragraphs, 
and  worked  them  up  into  sensations." 

"  Well,  then,  what  do  you  care?  " 

"  But,  don't  you  see  ?  if  I  say  so  in  a  letter 
to  The  Chronicle,  the  man  who  wrote  this  may  be 
—  probably  is  —  some  reporter  who  knows  that 
the  city  editor  sometimes  sent  to  me  for  further 
facts,  which  I  had  not  written,  and  which  I  freely 
told,  though  not  for  pay.  I  never  could  be  so 
base  as  that.  But  it  will  appear  so;  give  a  lie 
twenty-four  hours'  start,  and  you  never  can  over- 
take it,  you  know.  I  shall  be  —  oh,  Paton,  I 
am  the  most  unfortunate  beggar  on  earth.  All 
my  life  some  little  mistake,  some  impulsive  word 
or  thoughtless  act,  has  always  come  up  to  over- 
cloud my  prospects." 

"  Well,  you're  not  going  to  be  such  an  ass  as 
to  stir  this  up  by  writing  letters  about  it,  are  you  ? 
There's  nothing  to  worry  about.  It's  merely  a 

128 


The   Millionairess  H£ 

question  of  good  taste  —  how,  being  connected 
with  the  cloth  and  yourself  on  the  edge  of  the 
ministry  —  " 

Bryan  groaned. 

"  You  could  expose  its  weaknesses  for  pay  or 
friendship,  or  under  any  circumstances." 

"  Oh,"  Bryan  moaned,  "  this  will  kill  my  sis- 
ter, who  is  at  death's  door,  and  whose  regard  I 
value  more  than  life  itself.  What  shall  I  do? 
Can  you  advise  me?  What  way  shall  I  turn?" 

"  Now  that  this  new  field  is  open  to  you,  are 
you  going  into  the  pulpit,  or  are  you  going  to 
lecture?" 

"  I  was  going  to  lecture,"  Bryan  said. 

"  Well,  it  doesn't  matter,"  replied  Archie ;  "  I 
was  about  to  say  that  if  you  were  going  to  preach, 
you  might  some  day  have  to  explain  this  trifling 
matter  to  the  officials  of  your  church  in  private, 
but  whatever  you  mean  to  do,  don't  let  it  bother 
you." 

"  It  will  wreck  me,  and  kill  my  sister." 

"  You  are  the  same  Bryan  Cross  you  were  in 
college,"  Paton  said,  crossing  the  room,  and  put- 
ting a  friendly  hand  on  the  wretched  man's  shoul- 
der. "  You  were  always  imagining  yourself  in 

129 


The  Millionairess 


trouble  then  ;  always  doing  or  saying  some  indis- 
creet thing,  and  then  magnifying  it  into  a  moun- 
tain. Come,  cure  yourself  of  this,  if  you  mean  to 
get  on.  It's  all  damned  nonsense.  You  are 
worrying  over  nothing,  preparatory  to  inveighing 
against  worry  to-morrow.  Can't  you  see  how 
absurd  it  is?  Chuck  that  newspaper  in  the  fire, 
and  its  contents  out  of  your  head,  and,  mark  my 
words,  you  will  never  hear  of  the  subject  again. 
If  you  do,  what  of  it?  You  didn't  do  what  the 
man  charges.  Our  friend,  Sam  Woodruff,  on  the 
Evening  Star,  would  deny  it  in  a  moment  if  it 
were  worth  while.  Now  brace  up  and  face  the 
splendid  prospect  ahead.  Hang  the  past;  the 
future's  unclouded  for  you,  old  man." 

"  I  value  what  you  say,  Paton,"  said  Cross, 
straightening  his  figure  a  little  and  lifting  his 
head  a  trifle  under  this  encouragement,  "  be- 
cause you  are  not  concerned  and  can  see  the  thing 
clearly.  Thank  you  very  much.  I'll  try  and  not 
let  it  worry  me." 

"No,  don't  try,"  Archie  added,  with  a  little 
irritability,  "  I  don't  take  any  stock  in  trying  ;  it's 
a  copybook  virtue.  Do  it  —  doing's  better  than 
trying.  There,  now  it's  done.  You've  forgotten 

130 


The  Millionairess  ^ 

it  for  ever.  Read  your  papers  and  come  out 
among  the  trees  and  flowers  and  take  a  bath  in 
the  beauty  of  nature  and  the  good  spirits  of  my 
fair  cousin.  Remember,  you  are  starting  a  clean 
page  without  a  blot  upon  it." 


XL 

A   FAINT  SOUND   OF 
CUPID'S    WINGS 

"  The  young  day  opened  in  exulting  splendour."  —  Goetht. 

rHE  most  important  fact  about  Laura  at 
this  time  was  that  she  was  but  opening 
the  door  upon  her  real  life.  She  was  just 
beginning.  Up  to  a  year  ago  she  was  rather 
going  to  be  than  being,  for  the  years  of  man's 
reckoning  in  such  a  case  are  no  criterion  of  a 
person's  status  in  character  formation.  The  flesh 
and  blood  medium  or  vehicle  had  been  there  — 
sunny-haired,  sky-blue-eyed,  radiant,  vigorous, 
lovely.  And  her  amiability  and  goodness  — 
rock  foundations  for  coming  character  —  had 
been  very  apparent,  like  her  love  of  life.  But  the 
force  and  purpose  of  her  intellect  and  soul,  the 
will  she  was  to  possess,  the  directions  in  which 
it  was  to  be  exerted,  the  impress  her  influence 
was  to  make  upon  her  circle,  were  all  more  or 
less  undefined. 

132 


The  Millionairess  Hf 

Throughout  her  occasional  evenings  of  modish 
amusement  in  New  York  she  had  never  spent  an 
hour  without  the  protection  of  some  experienced 
woman  on  whom  she  relied  for  guidance.  And 
in  her  short  career  as  a  philanthropist  in  Powell- 
ton  she  had  profited  by  the  sturdy  influence 
of  the  Rev.  York  Stone.  His  strong  hand 
led  her  far  outside  her  house,  as  we  have  seen, 
but  fell  limp  and  idle  the  moment  her  home  duties 
or  her  pleasures  came  to  the  fore.  Thus  Laura 
Lament  was  coming  into  existence,  was  develop- 
ing within  the  mere  pretty  temple  which  we  call 
by  her  name.  What  she  was  to  do,  hold  to  or  let 
go,  not  even  she  had  any  means  of  predicting. 

Cousin  Archibald  Paton  —  second  cousin, 
really  —  was  in  the  garden,  out  of  the  sun's 
glare,  under  the  trees  where  they  were  thickest, 
near  the  high  front  wall.  He  was  to  catch  a  train 
just  after  lunch,  and  was  wondering  who  would 
be  at  the  club  as  early  as  he  would  get  there  — 
because  the  day  was  broken  and  there  was  no  use 
of  thinking  of  settling  down  to  work.  Laura 
had  asked  him  to  stay  till  Monday,  but  Mrs. 
Russell  had  whispered  to  him  that  he  would  be 
bored  to  death  with  another  evening  there.  That 

133 


The  Millionairess 


was  nonsense,  he  said  to  himself.  He  could  stay 
very  comfortably;  in  fact,  he  would  ask  Laura 
to  let  him  come  down,  presently,  for  a  long  visit. 
The  quiet  would  be  just  what  he  needed  for  work 
upon  his  new  book.  He  would  have  to  talk  to 
Laura  a  great  deal,  and  talking  to  young  un- 
married women  —  unless  they  were  actresses  or 
dancers  —  was  growing  more  and  more  irksome 
to  him  of  late.  But  if  he  was  to  settle  down 
anywhere  with  any  one  it  had  better  be  here  with 
Laura  than  anywhere  or  with  any  one  else.  Just 
now,  however,  a  college  friend  from  Chicago  and 
another  from  St.  Paul  were  in  town,  and  he  must 
run  up  and  take  them  the  round  of  the  theatres, 
and  dine  them  every  night  at  the  club  and  the 
new  restaurants  in  a  way  in  which  he  excelled 
and  that  they  would  not  soon  forget. 

He  would  wire  both  of  them  to  meet  him  in 
the  evening,  and  some  friends  would  be  at  the  club 
in  the  afternoon,  so  that  he  could  play  "  bridge  " 
to  kill  the  hours  until  it  was  time  to  dress. 
"  Damn  it,"  he  thought,  "  if  I  had  fallen  heir  to 
this  place  instead  of  Laura,  and  if  there  were  a 
few  congenial  men  in  the  village  and  a  billiard- 
table  here  —  and  New  York  only  ninety  minutes 

134 


The  Millionairess  ^ 

away  —  I  could  —  still  it  would  be  infernally 
dull." 

At  this  stage  of  his  thoughts  he  heard  a  light 
sound  of  the  gravel  behind  him,  and,  turning 
quickly,  saw  his  fair  cousin,  with  both  hands 
held  out  a  little  way  toward  him,  hesitatingly 
and  a  trifle  dejectedly.  She  put  her  hands  back 
when  he  turned,  dropped  them  by  her  sides,  and 
blushed. 

"Why,  Cousin  Laura!     What's  up?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  in  a  low  wailing  tone. 
"  Nothing.  Only  you're  going  away  —  that's  it." 

"  But  then,  I'm  not  here  so  often  and  haven't 
been  here  so  long  as  to  make  my  going  disturb 
you." 

Laura  gave  hjm  one  hand,  and  she  left  it  in 
his  grasp  in  a  way  that  was  eloquent  of  trust  and 
of  deep  emotion  besides  —  for  she  did  not  speak. 
The  truth  was  that  she  had  been  longing  for  this 
cousin  to  come  —  this  man  who  had  so  heroically 
seen  her  step  into  his  uncle's  property  without 
uttering  a  sound  of  resentment  —  and  now  he 
had  visited  her  and  was  going  away,  and  she  was 
disappointed  without  exactly  knowing  why. 

"  What  is  it,  cousin?  "  Archie  asked  again,  ten- 

135 


The  Millionairess 


derly.    "  I  thought  you  were  always  so  happy  and 
cheerful.    What  is  it?    Do  tell  me." 

He  spoke  tenderly,  I  say,  for  the  situation 
was  one  to  rouse  all  the  tenderness  in  any  man. 
Fancy  the  combination  made  by  the  retired  place, 
the  beauty  and  youth  of  the  girl,  his  imaginative 
nature,  that  first  sight  of  her  with  her  hands 
stretched  toward  him,  and  now  her  evident  sad- 
ness. He  would  not  have  believed  he  could  do 
such  a  thing,  for  he  had  never  more  than  touched 
her  hand  before,  but  —  there  —  it  was  done  ;  his 
arm  was  around  her  waist!  My!  what  a  dainty, 
soft,  silken  creature  she  was,  and  how  exquisite 
was  the  sweet  odour  of  her  golden  hair  as  she 
let  her  head  fall  upon  his  breast.  What  an  arm- 
ful for  a  man  to  find  himself  holding  —  and  even 
pressing  a  little  —  and  it  not  resisting,  but, 
rather,  nestling  against  him  as  if  it  yielded  to 
a  right  of  his.  Who  thought  of  actresses  and 
dancers  a  moment  ago?  Faugh!  Ye  gods! 
fancy  possessing  the  right  to  hold  so  beautiful, 
pure,  and  lovely  a  creature  in  one's  arms.  Con- 
found it  —  not  "  damn  it  "  now,  for  the  best  of 
his  better  nature  was  in  control  —  confound  it  ! 
No  man  who  ever  lived  was  worthy  of  such  a 
prize,  or  fit  to  aspire  to  such.  136 


The  Millionairess  H5- 

'  Tell  me  —  what  has  made  you  unhappy,  little 
cousin  ?  " 

"  You  have  Cousin  Archie." 

"  I?  " 

"  You  are  displeased  with  me." 

"  Displeased  with  you  ?  "  The  selfish  crust 
had  cracked,  the  pretence  of  objection  to  marry- 
ing an  unformed  wife  was  forgotten.  Even  the 
solid  marble  palace  of  the  Madison  Club  was 
beginning  to  look  shadowy. 

"  You  think  I  am  not  serious,  and  that  I  only 
wish  to  live  for  dinners  and  frivolity." 

"  I  think  you  are  my  dear  little  cousin,  of 
whom  not  even  you  shall  say  such  harsh  things." 

"See?  You  call  them  harsh,"  said  Laura, 
catching  at  the  word.  "  You  want  to  be  kind 
now,  because  I  —  I  am  unhappy.  But  you  set 
a  trap  to  make  me  condemn  myself  last  night. 
I  know  what  Mrs.  Russell  meant  by  asking  you 
if  it  was  fair,  though  I  would  not  let  her  think 
I  understood  her.  And  it  was  fair.  You  are 
my  only  relative  who  is  friendly,  and  I  will 
always  thank  you  to  criticise  me." 

"  I  hope  I  never  shall  even  seem  to  again." 
Still  with  an  arm  around  her,  deep  under  the 

137 


The   Millionairess 


trees,  out  of  sight  and  sound  of  house  and  road; 
his  bachelor  quarters  looking  cramped  and  tire- 
some, and  the  club-house  a  hateful  place. 

"  But  I'd  rather  you  would,  Cousin  Archie," 
said  she,  still  whimpering  a  little,  partly  from 
concern  over  his  past  behaviour,  partly  to  en- 
courage his  present  course.  "  I'd  much  rather 
you  would  counsel  me,  and  let  me  show  you  how 
much  I  should  value  your  advice  than  —  than  to 
keep  on  displeasing  you,  and  —  and  have  you 
stay  away-  and  think  ill  of  me." 

"  Oh,  come,"  said  he  ;  "  is  the  cousin  who 
says  I  stay  away  not  at  all  related  to  a  certain 
little  witch  whom  I  am  visiting  even  at  the 
moment  that  she  chides  me  for  my  absence  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  —  "  sighs  all  going  now,  and  a  pout 
separating  them  ;  "  I  cannot  be  satisfied  with  so 
little  as  that.  It  may  be  that  I  am  selfish  —  or 
that  I  feel  so  all  alone  in  life.  You  have  come 
only  twice,  and  then  only  when  I  thought  a  little 
more  of  such  neglect  must  mean  that  you  dis- 
liked me." 

An  image  of  stone  would,  almost,  have  real- 
ised what  that  speech  implied,  and  Archie  had 
been  only  ice,  not  stone.  What  he  realised  most 

138 


The  Millionairess  $& 

was  that  he  was  melting,  and  that  the  sensation 
was  more  pleasant  than  that  of  his  long  bachelor 
refrigeration  had  been.  Laura  cooed  and  pouted, 
and  he  kept  silent  and  thought,  merely  drawing 
her  closer  now  and  then,  and  brushing  his  mous- 
tache across  her  hair.  He  was  beginning  to 
recall  the  same  feelings  that  came  with  his  first 
love  adventure,  when  he  was  very  callow,  and 
had  a  pious  reverence  for  a  girl  who,  in  that 
case,  proved  extremely  mortal  and  flirtatious. 
Now  he  was  again  thinking  of  a  w6man  as  a 
goddess,  and  disparaging  himself.  And  he  was 
saying  to  himself  how  clearly  right  Helen  Rus- 
sell was  about  the  hardening  selfishness  of  club- 
life.  He  saw  himself  entering  the  club-house  on 
Fifth  Avenue,  the  stewards  bowing,  the  head 
porter  handing  him  some  letters.  He  turned  out 
of  the  hall  and  walked  through  a  series  of  rooms, 
comfortable  and  luxurious  beyond  any  that  the 
average  bachelor  could  possess  were  he  to  marry, 
and  consequently  tempting  such  not  to  marry. 
He  fancied  the  usual  loungers  here  and  there. 
"  Hello,  Dan,"  he  dreamed  himself  saying;  "  tired 
of  your  prison?  Well,  I  should  think  so." 
"  Hello,  Robbins,  you  here  in  your  daylight  state 

139 


The  Millionairess 


of  trance,  waiting  for  night  and  the  theatres 
and  drinks  and  soubrettes  and  the  rest  of  your 
suicidal  programme?"  "Ah,  there,  Thompson 
—  man  of  idiot  mind  who  can  do  nothing  under 
heaven  but  play  cards.  Have  to  get  up  a  game 
without  me."  "  Good  afternoon,  colonel  —  how 
purple  your  face  is,  and  how  strange  that  I  never 
saw  before  how  porcine  you  look  —  what's  keep- 
ing you  alive  ?  Hope  of  another  gorge  to-night  ? 
That  will  make  fifty  in  succession  ;  you'll  have  to 
hurry  faster  than  apoplexy  if  you  want  much 
more  of  your  gluttonish  life."  "  How  d'do,  Mr. 
Rickham  and  Mr.  Colt?  Still  at  the  window? 
Has  young  Mrs.  Dash  gone  by  with  the  riding 
master  at  Pegasus'  Academy?  Yes?  And  old 
Dash  saw  them  —  and  you  saw  him  see  them  ? 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  there  is  nothing  about  it 
that  he  did  not  know  and  does  not  approve  of,  but 
you  enjoy  your  imaginings  better  than  the  truth, 
and  fancy  yourselves  repaid  for  keeping  your 
chalky  faces  six  months  at  that  window."  "  No, 
no,  Billy  ;  no  billiards.  I'm  going  out  —  to  get 
the  air." 

Out  in  the  air  Laura  was  purring  and  his 
moustache  was  still  brushing  her  perfumed  hair. 

140 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

"Have  you  any  news  of  Cousin  Jack?"  she 
asked,  referring  to  the  relative  who  had  attempted 
to  secure  her  by  a  crime  as  a  means  of  winning 
her  fortune. 

"  Oh,  let  us  not  soil  our  lips  or  minds  with 
thoughts  of  that  brute,"  Archie  rudely  replied. 
"  Let  us  talk  of  ourselves  —  of  yourself  most  of 
all." 

His  rudeness  wounded  her,  but  she  forgave 
him. 

"  I'm  going  to  write  a  novel  about  a  girl  in 
your  position,"  said  Archie.  "  Not  in  criticism  of 
you;  but  showing  what  another  girl,  older,  of  a 
different  temperament,  might  do.  As  for  you, 
cousin,  I  would  not  have  you  different  —  if  you 
are  happy." 

"  I  am  not  altogether  frivolous,"  she  said. 
"  If  you  knew  what  bold  ideas  I  am  trying  to 
carry  out  in  the  village.  But  you  have  never 
inquired.  You  are  not  interested.  The  Rev.  Mr. 
Stone  is  helping  me  to  be  useful  in  a  small  way 
—  but  tell  me  what  you  suggest." 

"  Oh,  parsons !  Parsons  and  women !  Dear 
cousin,  do  you  think  parsons  embody  all  wis- 
dom ?  "  Archie  inquired,  lacking  the  modesty  and 

141 


The  Millionairess 


breadth  to  ask  what  it  was  that  the  parson  and 
the  woman  were  doing,  in  this  case.  "  They  can- 
not know  the  needs  of  men.  Priests  and  actors 
are  half  women  or  half  children,  where  practical 
things  are  concerned.  I  cannot  say,  offhand, 
what  my  heroine  will  do;  improved  tenements, 
or  sports  for  the  poor,  or  the  establishment  of 
coffee  clubs  made  as  attractive  as  the  barrooms; 
not  hung  with  placards  that  insult  people's  pride 
and  intelligence  or  full  of  the  usual  chilling  at- 
mosphere of  such  places." 

"  I  cannot  wait  for  your  novel,"  Laura  replied, 
a  great  deal  hurt  by  his  contempt  for  the  man 
whose  cheerful  and  useful  service  demanded  that 
she  should  be  his  champion.  She  had  been  hurt 
by  Archie  twice  in  ten  minutes  —  but  her  dream 
state  was  proof  against  both  blowrs. 

"  I'll  come  and  write  it  here,  and  read  over  to 
you  each  night  what  I've  written  during  the  day." 

"Will  you?"  Laura  cried,  surprised  out  of 
her  momentary  pain.  "  Then  you  are  my  good 
cousin,  after  all;  almost  as  good  as  I  have  ever 
believed  you  to  be." 

She  turned  her  sky-blue  eyes  and  fruity  cheeks 
and  rosy  lips  up  toward  his  face.  He  put  both 

142 


The  Millionairess  &£ 

arms  around  her  and  drew  her  against  himself 
and  kissed  her.  A  last  frozen  muscle  of  his 
heart  must  have  thawed. 

It  was  not  a  lover's  kiss;  she  who  knew  noth- 
ing of  kisses  beyond  those  of  her  own  sex  real- 
ised that  on  the  instant.  Much  less  was  it  the 
kiss  of  the  lady  novelists  of  the  day,  which  sets 
the  skies  aflame  and  causes  the  earth  to  rock. 
It  was  a  chaste,  paternal-like  kiss,  expressing 
a  kindly  interest  which  hesitates  on  the  edge  of 
committing  itself  to  anything  not  well  considered. 
As  he  raised  his  head  after  this  chaste  and  frugal 
dispensation,  he  saw  Mrs.  Russell  before  him 
at  the  junction  of  two  paths,  on  one  toe,  flutter- 
ing between  flight  and  bold  acknowledgment  of 
her  presence.  Archie  released  Laura  so  suddenly 
that  the  maiden  suspected  discovery,  and  flushed 
crimson  at  the  proof  of  it. 

"  Dear  friends,"  said  Mrs.  Russell,  advancing 
radiant ;  "I  would  rather  it  were  I  than  any  one 
else  who  saw  you."  (Here  a  pause.)  "And  I 
wouldn't  have  missed  it  for  anything." 

"  Are  —  con  —  grat  —  ula  —  tions  —  in  —  or- 
der?" she  went  on,  accentuating  her  uncertainty 
by  uncommon  pauses  between  syllables. 

143 


The  Millionairess 


"Don't  be  silly,  Helen,"  Archie  said.  "By 
the  way,  I'm  going  to  ask  Cousin  Laura,  before 
we  go  to  the  house,  if  I  may  come  here  to  do  a 
bit  of  writing  —  a  little  later,  when  my  book  is 
under  way." 

"  And  we  are  to  be  like  real  cousins  for  as  long 
as  I  can  make  him  happy,"  Laura  added. 

"  Well,  I  never !  "  Mrs.  Russell  remarked  to 
her,  when  they  were  safe  in  the  confidential  or 
bedroom  story  of  the  house.  "  When  I  saw  —  er 

—  what  I  could  not  help  seeing,  I  was  ready  to 
shout  for  joy.     But  the  tone  and  manner  you 
both   put   on   immediately   afterward  —  well,   it 
did  dash  my  castles  to  the  earth.    I  don't  under- 
stand it  at  all." 

"  You  were  silly,"  said  Laura.    "  It  was  only  a 

—  I  mean  it  was  not  anything,  not  in  the  least." 
Already  analysis  of  that  first  kiss  brought  a 

realisation  of  her  disappointment.  She  felt  that 
her  cousin  would  never  offer  her  a  second  kiss. 
And  she  knew  that,  if  he  ever  should  do  so,  her 
self-respect  would  not  permit  her  to  receive  it. 

Her  first  kiss  had  been  like  a  dagger  in  a 
tragedy.  It  had  slain  the  first-born  and  oldest  of 
her  day-dreams  of  love, 

144 


The   Millionairess  HS- 

Archie,  for  his  part,  stamped  his  own  opinion 
of  his  tenderness  with  the  muttered  words, 
"  What  an  ass  I  made  of  myself !  " 

He  was  entering  the  great  tiled  hall  of  the 
mansion  when  Mrs.  Lamont  slipped  out  of  a  side 
door  and  ran  to  him,  somewhat  stealthily,  with  a 
mixture  of  shrewdness  and  pleading  in  her  look, 
and,  pressing  his  hand,  whispered,  "  Be  kind  to 
her  always,  won't  you  ?  " 


145 


XII. 

BRYAN  CROSS'S 
EXPOSURE   OF  "SOCIETY" 

"  Yet  deemst  thyself  so  far  above  thy  brothers, 
That  them  hast  won  the  right  to  scorn  them."  —  Goethe. 

rHE  lunch  party  was  only  saved  from 
being  too  constrained  by  the  attempts 
of  Mrs.  Russell  to  arouse  the  others.  Laura 
was  still  wondering  how  to  regard  that  some- 
what gelid  first  kiss,  feeling  that  it  lacked  some- 
thing, perhaps  a  great  deal,  but  having  no  pre- 
vious experience  to  serve  as  a  standard  of 
comparison.  And,  too,  she  marvelled  at  the  sud- 
den charging  of  her  atmosphere  with  opposition 
to  society  —  and  opposition  to  her,  also,  for  going 
in  for  its  pleasures;  to  society,  above  all  things; 
society,  which  she  had  supposed  to  be  the  aim  and 
sum  of  genteel  existence.  Archie,  for  his  part, 
was  withdrawing  into  his  refrigerator,  and  pulling 
the  door  shut,  gradually.  He  was  annoyed  at 
the  free  hand  he  had  given  to  his  feelings  in 
bestowing  any  kiss  at  all  until  he  had  seen  more 

146 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

of  Laura's  purpose  in  life  —  and  of  his  friends 
at  the  club.  He  would  have  flattered  himself 
that  it  was  not  a  kiss  which  committed  him  to 
anything,  if  he  only  were  sure  that  Laura  thought 
as  little  of  it.  Bryan  Cross  was  prostrated  by  the 
terror  inspired  by  the  paragraph  in  the  Chronicle. 
He  did  not  look  any  more  like  his  former  self 
than  he  felt ;  indeed,  he  seemed  to  grow  haggard 
while  the  others  regarded  him ;  to  become  heavily 
lined  in  the  face,  worried,  with  the  flash  gone 
from  his  eyes,  the  spinal  column  out  of  his  back, 
the  stiffening  out  of  whatever  had  kept  his  chin 
in  air  when  he  had  faced  the  angry  villagers  at 
the  inquest. 

A  stupid  lunch  party.  The  sooner  it  was 
over  the  better,  since  everybody's  mind  was 
busied  with  its  own  affairs.  Even  Mrs.  Lament 
was  affected  by  the  discordant  mental  influences 
around  her.  She  could  only  ascribe  them  to 
jealousy  of  Mr.  Paton  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Cross, 
for  the  poor  lady  thought  of  little  else  than  her 
daughter's  marrying,  and  considered  each  new 
masculine  visitor  as  another  suitor.  In  spite  of 
the  flowers  and  crystal  and  silver,  the  dainty 
dishes  and  sparkling  wines,  and  the  decorous 

147 


The  Millionairess 


waiters  in  livery  —  how  that  midday  meal  did 
drag! 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Bryan  to  Archie,  when  they 
were  by  themselves  in  the  smoking-room  for  a 
moment  ;  "  I'm  sorry  I  put  a  damper  on  the 
lunch,  though  it  seemed  to  me  every  one  else  was 
pulling  sidewise.  I  can't  get  that  Chronicle  let- 
ter out  of  my  mind,  and  I'm  blue  as  an  Italian 
lake." 

"  Well,  all  I  can  say,"  said  Paton,  "  is  that  you 
remind  me  of  the  grizzly  that  reared  up  on  the 
track  ahead  of  an  express  train  to  fight  the  loco- 
motive. As  the  locomotive  remarked  to  that 
bear,  '  You  must  love  trouble.  '  My  dear  Cross, 
if  you  did  furnish  church  scandals  to  a  paper, 
what  of  it?  And  since  you  didn't,  there's  even 
less  of  it.  Why  don't  you  worry  about  real 
things,  if  you  must  worry?  For  instance,  about 
what  that  girl's  betrayer,  Kimball,  will  do  if  he 
meets  you." 

"  I  don't  care  a  fig  for  what  he  does,"  Cross 
replied.  "  I  am  never  afraid  when  I'm  right, 
and  I'm  never  afraid  of  any  man  except  myself. 
It's  my  own  weaknesses  that  give  me  all  my 
worries." 

148 


The   Millionairess  ^ 

"  You  contradict  the  proverb  that  '  a  watched 
pot  never  boils,'  "  Archie  persisted,  "  for  you 
are  always  watching  yourself  and  yet  you're 
always  stewing.  Believe  me,  you  can  whip  up  a 
little  trouble  like  the  white  of  an  egg,  till  it 
will  fill  a  washbowl,  —  but  it's  all  froth  when 
you've  done  it." 

When  the  crunching  of  the  carriage  wheels 
died  out  of  his  hearing,  Bryan  once  again  picked 
up  the  Chronicle  to  nourish  his  misery  with  new 
force,  but  to  his  astonishment  he  discovered  that 
the  leading  editorial  was  a  ringing  endorsement 
of  his  remarks  at  the  inquest,  and  predicted  that 
a  young  man  of  such  eloquence,  earnestness,  and 
self-control,  coupled  with  the  power  to  master  an 
angry  audience,  must  yet  make  himself  felt  in 
the  world.  "  He  perceives  a  common  weakness 
and  evil,"  said  the  editor.  "  He  has  shown  not 
merely  the  courage  to  attack  it,  but  a  command 
of  vision  over  its  full  extent,  and  a  skill  that 
cuts  into  its  heart.  The  people  in  every  walk 
of  life  will  pause  this  morning  to  read  his  words 
as  the  few  paused  yesterday,  even  in  a  paroxysm 
of  passion.  Bryan  Cross  holds  a  nation  in  waiting 
to  hear  more  of  what  he  has  to  say.  His  suc- 

149 


The   Millionairess 


cess  as  a  reformer,  a  leader,  or  even  as  a  mere 
lecturer,  is  limited  only  by  his  own  capacity." 

Sensitive,  as,  happily,  few  men  are;  now 
plunged  into  black  despair  by  an  imagining  and, 
anon,  lifted  to  serene  heights  by  success,  or  to 
superhuman  effort  by  a  mere  chance  made  roseate 
by  his  optimism,  Bryan  began  to  feel  himself 
raised  up  by  this  comment  of  one  who,  he  argued, 
must  have  seen  the  mosquitoish  paragraph  in 
the  same  paper,  yet  gave  it  no  concern.  His  face 
regained  colour,  the  haggard  lines  softened,  his 
eyes  sparkled,  and  he  lifted  his  shoulders  and 
head,  and  threw  off  the  trouble  that  had  been 
astride  of  him.  Miss  Lamont  came  in  and  found 
him  in  this  new  mood. 

"  Won't  you  come  and  visit  me  ?  "  she  asked 
him.  "  Don't  throw  away  your  cigar.  This  is 
Liberty  Hall  as  far  as  smoking  is  concerned. 
Gentlemen  may  smoke  anywhere  in  it.  Will  you 
come?  I  am  burning  to  have  you  clear  my  mind 
about  something." 

"Now,  what  is  it  about  society?"  she  asked, 
when  Mr.  Cross  and  she  were  comfortably  seated 
on  either  side  of  Mrs.  Lamont  in  the  sewing-room. 
"  What  is  there  wrong  about  what  we  call  '  gen- 

150 


The  Millionairess  m 

teel  life,'  the  current  which  flows  through  the 
drawing-rooms  and  ballrooms  and  dining-rooms 
of  those  who  endeavour  to  observe  the  nicer  ways 
of  life?  My  cousin,  Mr.  Paton  — 

"  Really,  only  her  second  cousin,"  Mrs.  Lamont 
interposed. 

-  is  displeased  with  me  —  or  I  imagine  he 
is,  for  having  spent  my  visits  to  town  rather  idly, 
in  a  social  way,  and  though  I  am  not  aware  of 
having  done  anything  amiss,  I  suspect  that  you, 
too,  hold  a  grievance  against  what  is  called  a 
fashionable  or  '  society '  existence,  and  I  want  to 
ask  you  why." 

"  I  sometimes  think  I  have  a  mission  in  the 
world,"  said  Bryan,  "  and  so  I  bid  you  tremble. 
A  man  with  a  mission  is  a  devouring  lion  who 
pays  no  heed  to  time  or  place  or  feelings  or  indi- 
viduals. You  will  rouse  the  lion  if  you  persist 
in  your  questions,  for  the  exposure  of  '  society ' 
is  part  of  my  mission." 

"  I  am  not  a  bit  afraid,"  Laura  replied,  with 
guilty  reservations  that  belied  her  tone  of  courage. 

"  Well,  society  —  the  highest  form  of  organ- 
ised social  intercourse  —  has  no  place  in  this 
country,  because  its  headquarters  is  the  ante- 


The  Millionairess 


chamber  (just  as  it  is  itself  the  shadow)  of  a 
royal  court.  Any  exclusive  set  not  connected  with 
a  throne  is  a  Brummagen  society,  a  fraud  and 
sham,  an  imitation.  A  monarch,  his  family  and 
his  highest  nobles,  must  have  entertainment 
and  companionships,  a  world  in  which  to  move  — 
however  small  —  so  they  set  up  a  haut  monde, 
composed  of  persons  of  rank  and  means  in  order 
that  they  may  live  and  yet  be  differentiated  from 
the  common  herd.  Mark  that:  the  very  raison 
d'etre,  the  essence,  the  first  aim,  of  so-called 
'  society  '  is  separation  from  the  people.  To  main- 
tain such  an  institution  here  is  un-American, 
undemocratic,  poisonous  to  the  republic,  wicked, 
dangerous.  We  have  always  had  here  a  sham 
aristocracy  —  the  laughing-stock  of  Europe  and 
the  disgust  of  our  own  good  citizens.  It  began 
with  a  few  un-American  families  with  real  or 
pretended  high  origin  or  connection  abroad,  and 
these  were  abetted  and  encouraged  by  others 
who  had  merely  money  and  leisure.  I  am  speak- 
ing of  the  Northern  States,  where  the  possession 
of  money  has  long  since  become  the  first  essential 
with  this  set,  the  wealthy  having  so  far  out- 
numbered the  original  elite  that  birth  is  a  second- 

152 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

ary  and  non-essential  qualification.  It  is  an 
Anglo-Saxon  peculiarity,  this ;  in  England  Jews, 
company  promoters,  and,  in  fact,  any  one  who  has 
money,  enters  society,  but  this  is  a  perversion  of 
the  true  character  of  the  institution  and  only 
obtains  there  and  here. 

"But,  to  return  to  America,"  he  continued; 
"  I  will  admit  that  this  class  had  to  exist,  even 
here,  for  it  was  the  last  expression  of  energy  on 
the  part  of  expiring  families  —  the  flower  —  the 
thing  that  comes  at  the  end  of  a  plant's  existence. 
Mark  that,  too,  please :  genuine  high  society  con- 
nected with  a  court  may  have  vigour,  constantly 
recruited  by  wise  marriages;  but  mock  society 
is  the  rendezvous  of  the  effete  and  played-out 
families  which  are  making  their  final  blaze  of 
efflorescence.  It  is  the  natural  process  that  the 
top  shall  wither  and  die  and  be  constantly  replaced 
from  the  bottom.  When  that  process  had  been 
too  long  and  too  completely  arrested  we  had  the 
French  Revolution.  To-day  we  see  by  the  con- 
dition of  the  masses  in  England  that  a  new  bal- 
ance must  be  struck  there  by  revolution  within 
or  by  some  catastrophe  from  outside.  The  same 
conditions  are  all  observable  here,  though  in  an 
earlier  stage.  153 


The  Millionairess 


"  Here  in  the  United  States  we  find  that  the 
dollar,  which  admitted  the  few  cads  of  a  quarter 
of  a  century  ago  to  the  companionship  of  our 
select  set,  has  become  an  idol.  The  dollar  is  the 
national  god.  To  accumulate  dollars  is  the  single 
aim  of  almost  every  man  of  force  and  brain,  so 
that  government  and  public  leadership  are  left 
to  the  mob,  while  talent  confines  itself  to  money- 
making.  Our  men  having  made  the  money,  our 
women  have  found  out  what  to  do  with  it.  They 
have  invested  it  in  '  society ; '  in  founding  an 
exclusive  set  if  they  had  not  one  at  hand,  or  if 
they  could  not  enter  the  one  they  had.  Hence 
the  gradual  broadening  of  the  institution  —  or 
imitation  —  until  it  poisons  every  class  above  the 
toilers.  I  have  watched  this  growth  everywhere 
from  New  York  to  San  Francisco,  and  have 
scarcely  known  any  variation  of  the  process. 
First,  a  man  by  force  of  brain  or  opportunity 
makes  money,  and  becomes  wrapped  up  in  the 
making  of  it,  as  heedless  of  further  purpose  as 
the  squirrel  that  will  continue  to  hoard  nuts  in 
the  same  tree  trunk,  though  you  carry  them  off 
as  fast  as  he  brings  them.  Then  comes  the  wife 
or  daughter,  bitten  by  the  national  serpent,  and 

154 


The   Millionairess  HS- 

lays  out  part  of  that  money  to  lift  herself  from  the 
level  of  the  people  of  whom  she  is  by  birth  and 
training  a  part,  into  some  pretentious,  snobbish 
circle  where  the  talk  is  of  '  my  man  '  or  of  *  my 
maids,'  where  every  day's  and  evening's  pleas- 
ure is  measured  by  its  cost  in  dollars  and  every 
man's  and  woman's  standing  by  the  amounts  they 
spend. 

"  These  are  cads,  Miss  Lament,  and  the  ways 
of  cads,"  Bryan  went  on.  "  Cads  —  the  mean- 
est of  all  the  species  of  the  vulgar.  But  we  have 
not  noticed  the  worst  evil  yet.  The  worship  of 
the  dollar  has  extended  —  the  application  of  the 
banker's  scales  to  the  weighing  of  all  merit  and 
worth  —  has  gravitated  downwards  until  to-day 
only  those  who  work  with  their  hands  are  healthy 
—  and  despised.  The  chasm  between  the  rich 
and  poor  is  widened  as  it  is  nowhere  else  except 
in  England,  so  that  the  middle  class  and  lower 
middle  class,  as  they  say  over  there,  are  now  on 
the  side  of  the  rich.  All  ties  between  the  bottom 
and  top  are  broken,  the  middle  folk  who  were  the 
friends  of  the  poor  have  pushed  the  poor  aside, 
and  only  live  to  ape  the  rich.  Dear  Miss  Lamont, 
the  wife  of  a  reporter  whom  I  know,  a  man  on 

155 


The  Millionairess 


sixty  dollars  a  week,  has  '  Thursdays  '  on  her 
cards.  Have  you  thought  what  that  means?  It 
is  a  formal  declaration  that  she  is  living  for 
herself,  for  purely  sensual,  selfish  pleasure,  and 
to  the  neglect  of  husband,  home,  children,  and 
all  the  duties  of  her  proper  and  natural  place  in 
the  world.  It  means  that,  or  else  it  means  that 
this  is  what  she  aims  at  and  cherishes  and  wishes 
she  could  do.  Well,  this  sixty  dollars  a  week 
'  society  '  woman  has  '  Thursdays  '  on  her  cards, 
and  talks  about  whom  '  she  can  meet  '  and  whom 
she  cannot  meet.  She  moves  out  of  a  decent 
street,  where  the  rents  are  within  her  means,  into 
a  flat  (which  is  to  say  a  place  too  small  to  permit 
of  proper  privacy  and  the  pride  and  self-respect 
which  home  ownership  engenders)  because  the 
other  neighbourhood  was  '  too  poor,'  and  there 
were  '  dirty  people  '  there.  She  lives  up  to  the 
last  cent  of  every  dollar,  with  doctor,  dentist,  and 
grocer  in  arrears,  while  her  husband  admits  that 
his  most  sacred  aim  is,  not  to  save  anything,  but 
to  keep  his  insurance  premiums  paid  up.  What 
makes  up  her  '  set  '  of  the  people  *  she  can  meet  '  ? 
The  wives  of  a  school  principal,  of  a  clerk  in  a 
railroad  office,  of  the  manager  of  a  branch  tele- 

156 


The  Millionairess  HS- 

graph  office,  and  of  a  few  reporters.  Are  you 
astonished?  You  cannot  be,  because  you  cannot 
have  been  to  any  town  or  city  where  the  same 
is  not  the  case.  Everywhere,  nowadays,  each 
country  weekly  has  its  '  society  column/  which 
chronicles  the  reception  by  Miss  Jessamine  Brown, 
'  the  queenly  daughter  of  our  popular  boot  and 
shoe  dealer,'  and  the  dance  given  by  Mrs.  Marie 
Perkins  Hogg,  wife  of  the  well-known  grocer, 
'  to  which  was  invited  a  select  company.'  The 
disease  is  not  merely  dollar  worship  —  it  is  self- 
worship.  This  is  the  age  of  individualism,  of 
selfishness,  and  its  motto  is  *  To  the  devil  with 
the  others  so  long  as  I'm  on  top.' ' 

"  Be  more  personal,  please,"  Laura  said ; 
"  bring  the  situation  home  to  me.  I  am  neither 
a  grocer  nor  a  telegraph  clerk.  I  have  a  visiting 
day,  but  have  no  children  or  husband,  so  that 
I  am  not  neglecting  them.  I  have  been  taken 
into  a  set  led  by  Mrs.  Beverley  Russell  and  Mrs. 
Charles  Kellogg,  you  know  —  the  architect  and 
the  great  lawyer.  And  I  have  seen  a  great  deal 
of  the  circle  in  which  are  the  Egerton- Woods 
and  Mrs.  Mowbray-Stanton  —  the  bankers'  wives. 
What  about  them?" 

157 


The  Millionairess 


"  Think  for  yourself,"  Bryan  replied.  "  Think 
whether  the  wives  you  meet  are  denying  them- 
selves children  so  as  to  be  free  from  that  care. 
Think,  if  they  have  children,  whether  they  are 
being  brought  up  by  servants  toward  the  same 
end.  Think  whether  the  aims,  principles,  and 
general  topics  discussed  in  those  houses  are  high, 
serious,  elevating.  What  are  their  manners  and 
feelings  toward  their  servants?  Try  to  recollect 
what  poor  families  they  visit  continually,  what 
poor  children  they  are  educating,  what  concern 
and  sympathy  for  the  unfortunate,  the  sick  and 
the  helpless  are  shadowed  in  their  conversation. 
Recall  whether,  when  you  dine  with  them,  you 
ever  meet  the  managers  and  chief  clerks  of  their 
banks  and  the  wives  of  these  assistants  of  the 
bankers,  on  terms  of  brotherhood  at  their  table?  " 

"  You  know  none  of  these  things  are  custom- 
ary," Laura  answered.  "  They  are  things  I  never 
thought  of." 

"But  why?  What  do  you  find  'unnatural 
about  them?  Miss  Lamont,  the  unnatural  and 
wrong  things  are  what  you  do  find  —  and  find 
most  exaggerated  among  the  two  most  artificial 
peoples  on  earth,  the  English  and  the  Americans. 

158 


The   Millionairess  $& 

But  if,  as  you  say,  the  things  I  ask  about  are 
not  customary,  then  let  me  ask  you  what  is 
customary  ?  Is  it  a  life  of  pretence  of  superiority 
to  the  masses?  Is  it  an  exclusiveness  which 
confines  itself  to  those  who  have  the  power  and 
the  inclination  to  spend  money  on  entertainments 
and  pleasure?  Is  it  a  hardening  of  the  heart  to 
every  consideration,  every  plea,  every  condition 
which  disturbs  their  sense  of  ease  and  comfort 
and  pleasure  —  for  which  things  alone  they  live? 
Carlyle,  surrounded  by  similar  conditions  in 
England,  called  it  the  Age  of  Barabbas  and, 
again,  the  Age  of  the  Belly,  but  though  a  chief 
stone  in  the  arch  of  evil  may  be  the  dining-table, 
I  assure  you  that  all  the  other  senses  are  receiv- 
ing far  more  than  a  healthy  consideration.  Your 
set  may  confine  its  ministrations  to  the  nourish- 
ment of  false  pride,  the  ossification  of  the  human 
heart,  and  the  titillation  of  the  palate.  God 
knows  I  hope  it  is  so.  That  is  the  case  with 
'  society '  in  Chillicothe  and  Plainfield  and 
Watertown,  Wisconsin.  But  these  are  appren- 
tices to  the  scheme  —  as  even  New  York  is,  in  a 
way;  for  it  has  not  yet  come  to  the  Roman 
plan  of  serving  a  course  of  hot  water  after  a 

159 


The  Millionairess 


choice  dish  in  order  that  a  second  serving  may 
be  newly  enjoyed." 

Laura  put  up  a  hand  in  protest. 

"  You  may  be  of  the  apprentices,"  Cross  con- 
tinued; "but  the  natural  consequences  of  a  sen- 
sualist's —  which  is  to  say  a  '  society  '  existence 
not  based  on  genuine  worth  or  pride  of  pedigree 
—  are  such  as  even  you  must  have  seen  the  signs 
of:  in  the  eccentricities  of  women's  dress  in- 
vented by  men  modists  in  the  sensual  capital  of 
the  world;  in  the  familiarising  and  popularising 
of  paintings  and  statues  of  the  nude  ;  in  the  char- 
acter of  the  performances  now  given  in  the  thea- 
tres and  the  invasion  of  the  music  halls  by  ladies, 
who  have  only  lately  been  willing  to  witness  all 
that  is  shown  in  them;  in  the  topics  discussed 
by  the  writers  whose  works  attract  the  most  atten- 
tion in  high  life;  in  the  evident  purpose  of  the 
so-called  *  music  of  the  future.'  I  scarcely  think 
you  can  know,  Miss  Lament,  how  servile  a 
handmaiden  of  all  the  senses  the  more  advanced 
in  high  society  have  become." 

"  No,"  said  Laura,  made  uneasy  by  the  drift 
of  the  talk  ;  "  I  know  nothing  of  all  this,  and 
I  think,  if  you  don't  mind,  I'd  rather  not  know. 

1  60 


The  Millionairess  Mf 

So  far  as  we  have  been  able  to  follow  you, 
mamma  and  I,  we  have  gained  a  great  deal  to 
think  about  —  a  great  deal  we  did  not  know, 
haven't  we,  mother?  " 

"  Mr.  Cross  reminds  me  of  Mr.  Thynne, 
whom  we  knew  in  Paris,"  Mrs.  Lament  said. 
"  \  heard  you  mention  Paris,  Mr.  Cross.  My 
daughter  and  I  lived  there:  she  was  mainly 
educated  there." 

"  I  also  know  Paris,"  Cross  replied.  "  There 
are  two  Parises,  though  one  is  but  little  known  — 
the  one  that  is  made  up  of  homes  and  is  as 
wholesome  as  Philadelphia." 

"  Are  you  married,  Mr.  Cross?  "  Mrs.  Lamont 
asked. 

"  No,  ma'am,"  said  he ;  and  then,  after  a 
pause,  during  which  it  was  evident  that  his  mind 
flew  to  other  scenes,  he  added :  "  Not  married, 
yet  very  much  wedded." 

Out  in  the  garden,  in  the  cool  of  the  evening, 
when  Laura  and  he  were  lounging  among  the 
flowers  and  solidifying  their  acquaintance,  as 
each  brought  out  from  the  other  the  points  on 
which  both  could  base  a  friendship,  she  reminded 
him  of  this  subject. 

161 


The  Millionairess 


"  That  was  a  strange  answer  you  made  to 
mother  when  she  asked  if  you  were  married," 
said  she. 

"  I  only  meant,"  said  Cross,  "  that  though  I 
am  not  married,  I  am  wedded  to  the  care  of  the 
best  woman  —  present  company  always  excepted 
—  upon  whom  to-day's  sun  has  shone  ;  but  she 
is  an  invalid  sister  instead  of  a  wife." 

Then,  in  a  few  graphic  sentences,  he  described 
to  his  companion  the  woman  for  whose  trust  and 
esteem  he  cared  more  than  for  all  else  that  the 
world  could  offer  him,  —  a  wasted  wreck,  impris- 
oned at  home  by  a  lingering  illness,  hung  as  it 
were  above  the  grave  by  threads  as  delicate  as 
cobwebbery,  yet  still  a  beautiful  woman  to  look 
upon,  ever  serene,  unvaryingly  hopeful,  amiable 
as  an  angel,  and  with  an  intellect  and  intuition  so 
clear  and  keen  as  to  cause  her  at  times  to  appear 
gifted  beyond  the  compass  of  men's  minds. 

"  Dear  lady,"  said  he,  addressing  her  in  a 
fashion  most  singular,  which  yet  did  not  sound 
as  it  might  from  a  person  less  intense  ;  "  dear 
lady,  when  I  try  to  measure  the  love  I  bear  for 
one  woman  who  is  not  only  a  sister  but  a  shadow, 
I  grow  aghast  at  the  thought  that  I  might  one 

162 


The  Millionairess  H3- 

day  love,  as  most  men  come  to  do,  some  woman 
of  solid  flesh,  of  equal  charm  of  mind  and  person. 
The  thought  terrifies  me.  I  pray  that  if  it  must 
be,  she  prove  to  have  the  strength  and  wisdom 
to  restrain  me,  otherwise  I  should  abandon  all 
else,  and  give  up  my  life  to  an  idolatry  of  her." 

''  You  cannot  mean  that,"  L^aura  replied,  catch- 
ing only  a  glimmering  idea  of  the  life  he  out- 
lined as  of  something  madly  romantic;  "what 
woman  would  value  a  love  like  that  ?  " 

"  How  then  do  you  picture  love?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Oh,  I  ?  I  cannot  tell.  I  don't  suppose  I 
have  ever  thought  about  it  —  not  really.  How 
would  a  woman  think  of  it  except  as  a  consecra- 
tion of  her  life  to  her  husband?  Would  she  not 
enter  into  her  new  life  with  awe,  trembling  before 
its  mysteries,  humbled  by  thoughts  of  her  own 
unworthiness,  and  yet  clinging  desperately  to 
the  rock  of  her  husband's  love?  I  cannot  express 
the  sense  I  have  either  of  the  majesty  of  love 
or  of  its  exquisite  tenderness.  Do  you  know 
Schumann's  songs  of  a  woman's  love  and  life? 
In  them  the  words  and  music  picture  a  woman's 
feelings  more  truly  than  anything  I  can  imagine 
or  have  ever  read." 

163 


The  Millionairess 


"  I  owe  you  an  apology,"  said  Bryan. 
"  When  you  asked  me  to  bring  home  to  you  what 
I  had  to  say  against  fashionable  life,  I  tried  to 
do  it.  I  was  a  fool.  I  had  no  idea  I  could  be 
such  a  fool.  Society  is  not  likely  to  do  you  any 
harm.  It  may  try  —  but  it  can't  hurt  you." 

"  But  what  should  I  do,  Mr.  Cross  ?  I  am  not 
a  '  society  woman/  I  have  merely  coquetted  with 
society  —  and  a  very  plain  and  unpretentious 
part  of  it  at  that.  But,  wait!  Do  not  speak 
yet,  please.  Let  me  frankly  confess,  first,  that 
though  I  do  not  think  myself  better  than  my 
humblest  neighbours,  I  do  love  the  luxurious  and 
brilliant  side  of  life,  and  the  company  of  all  who 
are  both  honest  and  clever  among  those  who  orna- 
ment it.  I  love  the  beautiful,  the  ornamental,  the 
luxurious,  and  I  admire  grace  and  charm  and  style 
in  both  the  intellects  and  personal  bearing  of  re- 
fined men  and  women.  Is  that  wicked  ?  And  if  I 
feel  this  inclination  what  must  I  do  ?  I  have  never 
felt  any  hardening  consequences.  I  am  not  blase 
and  those  who  affect  to  be  so  always  repel  me. 
Tell  me  what  I  am  to  do  —  but,  first,  believe  me 
when  I  say  that  I  am  not  conscious  of  any  false 
pride  or  sin  or  shame  in  doing  as  I  have  done." 

164 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

"  My  God !  "  Cross  broke  out  with  startling 
emphasis.  "  Do  you  ask  me  to  bid  you  decide 
between  inclination  and  duty  ?  Me  ?  I  —  who 
live  a  lie,  whose  life  has  become  hell  for  the  lack 
of  a  little  courage?  Spare  me,  Miss  Lament. 
Seek  counsel  of  the  vagrant  winds,  of  the  wanton 
waves  of  yonder  river  —  yes,  seek  it  of  the 
criminals  in  the  jails  —  rather  than  of  such  as  I." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Cross !  "  Miss  Lament  exclaimed, 
her  eyes  wide  with  astonishment,  her  attitude  one 
of  amazement  and  a  little,  too,  of  alarm. 

"  Oh,  forgive  me,  Miss  Lament,"  Cross  replied. 
"  I  am  rude  to  disturb  you  with  my  misery.  But 
I  take  nothing  back.  Seek  no  advice  of  me." 


165 


XIII. 

LIKE  A   LILY  ON  AN  ALTAR 

"  Roses,  oh,  how  fair  ye  be ! 

Ye  are  fading,  dying  1 
Ye  should  with  my  lady  be, 
On  her  bosom  lying."  —  Goethe, 

HEN  Bryan  Cross  pushed  his  way 
through  the  great  crowd  at  the  ceme- 
tery after  his  address  over  Teenah  Muller's 
grave,  he  was  like  a  giant  in  conscious  strength 
and  power.  It  was  evident  to  all  who  had 
witnessed  his  complete  mastery  of  the  people, 
and  had  shrunk  from  the  burning  rain  of  his 
attacks  upon  the  selfishness  of  the  age,  that  what- 
ever chance  he  commanded  the  world  to  give  him 
would  be  proffered  instantly  and  with  full  meas- 
ure. The  wonder  was  where  such  a  light  had 
been  hidden;  how  such  a  wizard  had  so  long 
restrained  his  powers.  The  foremost  lecture 
manager  and  his  chief  competitor  were  both  at 
the  Clock  House  early  on  Monday  morning  with 
offers  which  might  have  addled  some  men's  heads, 

1 66 


The  Millionairess  ¥& 

and  when  Bryan  left  the  house  he  had  the  refusal 
of  a  tour  which  embraced  all  the  cities  of  the 
first,  second,  and  third  rank  on  terms  represent- 
ing a  modest  fortune  in  a  season. 

We  may  as  well  pursue  his  career  with  a  sweep- 
ing glance  forward  and  say  at  once  that  what  was 
promised  was  more  than  fulfilled.  He  prepared 
two  lectures.  The  title  of  the  leading  one  was 
"  American  Devils."  "  Mrs.  John  Smith's  Thurs- 
days "  he  prepared  for  second  nights  in  large 
cities  or  return  visits  to  smaller  ones.  Surrender 
to  Self  is  a  phrase  which  exactly  describes  the 
source  of  the  evils  he  called  "  American  Devils." 
From  the  text  of  "  Mrs.  Smith's  Thursdays  "  he 
inveighed  against  those  pretensions  to  superior 
rank  which  are  made  by  an  ever-widening  mass 
and  which  turn  from  pretence  to  reality  in  their 
effect  of  ignoring  the  claims  of  the  poor  upon  the 
sympathy  of  all  whose  common  badge  is  the 
visiting  card. 

Before  signing  the  agreement  with  the  lyceum 
manager,  he  proceeded  characteristically  by  laying 
the  case  before  his  sister.  It  would  be  profana- 
tion to  visit  her  sick-chamber  with  him  in  any  but 
a  reverent  spirit.  It  will  be  like  seeing  an  Easter 

167 


The  Millionairess 


lily  upon  a  snow-white  altar  to  pause  for  a  mo- 
ment in  her  room.  Everything  there  was  snow- 
white  —  the  walls,  the  enamelled  furniture,  the 
toilet  and  dressing  stands,  the  shades  and  cur- 
tains, even  the  wasted  face  upon  the  snowy  pillow 
above  the  immaculate  counterpane.  There  was 
just  the  lily  tone  —  the  hint  of  ivory  or  cream  — 
to  set  off  her  face  against  all  else.  Of  white,  also, 
but  touched  with  gold,  were  a  dainty  desk  and  an 
upright  piano,  for  within  these  walls  Mabel  Cross 
lived  her  whole  life.  So  little  of  the  sick-chamber 
was  there  about  the  room  that  its  atmosphere  held 
in  suspense  the  faint  pure  odour  of  wood  violets. 
A  young  Episcopal  sister  had  been  reading  from 
the  Bible  when  Bryan  came.  Instantly  Mabel's 
face  lighted  up,  a  blush  and  a  smile  spread  upon 
it.  She  threw  out  her  arms,  hid  under  dainty 
lawn  and  lace,  and  Bryan  flew  into  them.  She 
was  slightly  older  than  he,  yet  looked  somewhat 
younger.  To  see  her  was  to  realise  how  it  can 
be  that  the  angels  are  never  of  any  age  and  yet 
enjoy  perpetual  youth. 

"  I  am  just  the  same,  dear  Bryan,"  she  said, 
in  reply  to  his  first  question  ;  "  that  is,  I  am  very 
happy." 

1  68 


The  Millionairess 


"  But  you,"  she  added,  holding  him  away  at 
arm's  length,  to  regard  him  the  better,  "  you  are 
so  handsome,  Bryan!  What  is  the  reason  that 
every  pretty  girl  does  not  fling  herself  at  you? 
I  would  if  I  were  one  and  were  not  already  too 
vain  of  being  merely  your  sister.  And  what  are 
you  trying  to  hide  from  me  to-day?  You  look 
as  Joshua  must  when  he  heard  the  Lord  say 
that  no  man  should  be  able  to  stand  before  him 
all  the  days  of  his  life.  I  know  what  the  world 
is  talking  about.  Miss  Jowett,  here,  has  read 
to  me  columns  upon  columns  about  your  addresses 
in  the  country.  What  a  wonderful  use  God  is 
making  of  you,  Bryan!  Oh,  do  thank  Him 
enough  and  do  not  ever,  for  an  instant,  fancy 
the  power  is  your  own  and  not  His  exerted 
through  you." 

Bryan  told  her  of  the  offer  of  the  lecture 
agent,  and  that  he  had  come  to  consult  her  before 
giving  his  answer. 

"  Splendid !  splendid !  "  she  cried,  her  pleasure 
dancing  in  her  brilliant  eyes  as  well  as  charging 
her  voice.  "  You  see  now  that  your  sister  is 
something  more  than  a  mere  bundle  on  a  shelf. 
Oh,  yes,  I  know  that  is  what  so  big  and  strong 

169 


The  Millionairess 


a  brother  must  have  often  thought  of  such  a 
sister.  Bundle,  indeed!  all  the  same,  for  years 
I  have  been  prophesying  this  would  come.  And 
in  your  impatience  you've  been  saying  I  was  too 
hopeful  and  too  fond  of  you.  Now,  see,  it's  all 
about  to  come  true.  Let  us  thank  God,  dear 
Bryan,  for  His  goodness  to  you  —  and  to  me, 
for  is  not  your  success  my  happiness?  Then  you 
must  promise  never  again  to  disparage  my  powers. 
Though  I'm  only  a  shopworn  old  bundle,  I  have 
sometimes  an  idea  that  I'm  better  fitted  for 
prophecy  than  if  I  had  more  flesh  and  blood  to 
think  about.  Joking  apart,  Bryan,  I  was  think- 
ing the  other  day  I'd  make  a  very  good  witch  - 
in  a  picture." 

"  If  there  are  good  witches,  I'm  sure  of  it, 
Mabel." 

"  Bryan,"  she  said,  "  I  could  not  help  regret- 
ting that  there  was  not  a  word  of  religion  in 
either  of  your  addresses  at  Powellton.  Were  they 
well  reported  in  the  newspapers?" 

"  Verbatim,  Mabel,"  said  he,  while  his  brow 
clouded. 

"  They  teach  only  morality,"  said  she.  "  Con- 
fucius did  that,  but  what  does  it  avail,  without 
religion  for  its  foundation?"  170 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

"  I  know,  Mabel ;  but  —  "  he  was  stammering 
over  what  he  had  to  say ;  "  you  see  —  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  that  they  were  fearfully  mixed 
crowds  and  one  was  an  official  occasion,  but 
now  that  you  are  free  to  utter  whatever  is  in 
your  heart,  you  will  not  fail  to  emphasise  the  need 
of  the  Christian  faith  as  a  basis  of  the  reforms 
you  seek.  There!  How  silly  of  me  to  criticise 
such  a  brilliant  and  courageous  beginning.  You 
will  know  how  to  turn  it  all  to  God's  account. 
Let  us  thank  Him,  now,  for  the  opportunity,  dear 
brother,  and  then  you  shall  tell  me  all  your 
plans." 

So  we  will  leave  them,  she  praying  aloud  in  a 
voice  like  music  melted  by  fervour,  and  he  on 
his  knees  by  her  snowy  bed. 

Can  it  be  that,  as  we  turn  away,  we  catch  a 
glimpse  of  a  guilty,  shamefaced  expression  which 
he  hides  as  he  puts  up  his  hands  to  cover  his 
eyes? 

With  this  invocation  of  a  blessing  on  his  tour, 
Bryan  started  upon  the  experiences  of  a  lecturer, 
so  varied  and  interesting  at  first,  so  wearying  and 
monotonous  in  time.  At  first  it  was  his  wont  to 
read  the  preliminary  notices  of  the  newspapers  in 

171 


The  Millionairess 


each  town,  to  look  about  for  his  lithographed 
portraits  —  even  to  walk  past  the  lecture  hall, 
soon  after  the  doors  opened,  to  see  whether  any 
one  —  or  what  number  of  persons  —  was  going 
to  hear  him.  But  the  mill-made  notices  soon 
palled,  the  portraits  took  on  a  deadly  familiarity, 
and  he  became  so  certain  of  having  to  push  his 
way  through  crowds  at  each  hall  entrance,  when 
it  came  time  for  him  to  appear,  that  at  last  nothing 
of  the  first  sensations  endured.  In  their  place 
came  the  fatigue  of  never-ending  train  catching, 
of  unpleasant  journeying  and  of  broken  nights 
abbreviated  at  both  ends. 

A  joy  that  compensated  him  to  the  end  was 
that  of  mastering  his  audiences,  establishing  a 
circuit  between  them  and  himself,  and  then,  as  it 
were,  ordering  them  to  laugh,  to  weep,  or  to 
thrill,  or  else  to  gasp  when  he  sent  home  some 
unexpected,  fearless,  conscience-stabbing  exposure 
of  their  folly. 

He  was  everywhere  successful  beyond  the  hopes 
of  his  manager,  and  what  is  called  "  Society," 
which  took  him  <up  as  a  new  "  sensation  "  when 
he  attacked  self-surrender,  went  the  wilder  over 
him  for  what  he  had  to  say  in  condemnation  of 

172 


The  Millionairess  Hr 

those  who  pursue  pleasure  in  dress  and  dining, 
in  erotic  fiction  or  in  immodesty  gilt- framed  or 
palpitating  beneath  pink  silk  upon  the  stage. 

There  is  a  class  of  persons  in  each  community, 
he  found,  whose  aim  is  to  hunt  down  every  indi- 
vidual whose  name  has  appeared  in  print  half  a 
dozen  times,  to  entrap  such  in  their  homes,  and 
to  exhibit  them  to  their  friends.  The  tricks  to 
which  the  autograph  collectors  descend  are  hardly 
more  ingenious  or  more  shameless  than  the  wiles 
of  these  Lion  Trappers  whose  successes  entail  a 
cruelty  of  which  the  Autograph  Demons  are  guilt- 
less. Self-respecting  men  and  women  who  pos- 
sessed this  instinct  of  the  showman  often  frankly 
invited  Bryan  to  their  houses  "  to  meet  the  best 
people  in  the  place,"  and  he  accepted  or  not,  as 
he  felt  disposed.  But  when  he  tired  of  the  unfair, 
one-sided  game,  and  resolved,  as  'he  said,  "  to  ex- 
hibit only  in  his  cage,"  then  the  other,  conscience- 
less folk  ensnared  him.  They  asked  him  to  an 
"  informal  family  dinner "  here,  or  "  a  snug 
corner  and  a  pipe  "  there,  or  else  to  "  a  quiet  chat 
with  a  great  admirer  "  somewhere  else  —  always 
letting  in  the  entire  neighbourhood  upon  him  when 
he  was  cornered,  and  forcing  him  to  go  through 

173 


The  Millionairess 


the  familiar  routine  —  so  sickening  to  him  and 
degrading  to  the  others.  Along  came  the  woman 
loaded  with  "  a  thought  "  or  a  "  burning  ques- 
tion," the  milk-eyed  maidens  with  their  effrontery 
materialised  in  the  form  of  albums,  the  dress- 
makers' models  who  said  they  had  "  so  longed  to 
have  the  honour,"  but  in  reality  were  only  desir- 
ous of  getting  their  names  into  print  as  being  "  in 
it  "  once  again.  Sometimes  Bryan  also  met  the 
Enthusiast  in  Side  Curls  who  had  got  a  circle  or 
a  club  (or  would  instantly  get  up  one)  for  him 
to  lecture  to  for  nothing  ;  and,  always,  there  were 
a  very  few  men  present.  One  was  paying  the 
bills  and  looked  puzzled.  The  others  wondered 
how  many  dollars  Bryan  made  —  and  sometimes 
asked  him. 

"  They  have  actually  taken  up  me  and  my 
lectures  as  a  fad,"  he  wailed  in  a  letter  to  Laura. 
"  Think  how  desperate  the  idlers  must  be  for  a 
fillip  to  their  jaded  senses  when  they  run  after 
one  whose  only  purpose  is  to  put  them  to  shame. 
But  only  think  how  it  belittles  me  —  how  they 
insult  me  !  Before  I  resolved  to  make  no  appear- 
ance anywhere  except  in  the  lecture  halls  I  was 
actually  trapped  into  a  '  Bryan  Cross  Lilac  Tea  ' 

174 


The  Millionairess  Hf 

at  the  house  of  the  wife  of  a  college  professor 
who,  you  may  be  sure,  kept  her  plan  from  me, 
and  made  me  believe  I  was  only  to  meet  her 
husband.  After  that,  I  absolutely  withheld  myself 
from  everybody,  and  determined  to  at  least  ap- 
pear too  serious  to  be  used  as  a  fashionable  play- 
thing. I  made  my  climaxes  religious  (deistically 
and  eclectically,  so  as  not  to  narrow  my  influence 
to  any  creed)  and  I  added  some  very  plain  speech 
—  almost  too  plain  —  about  the  tendencies  of 
Fashionable  Sensualism.  This  has  set  my  later 
audiences  quivering,  but  I  fear  that  even  this  may 
be  regarded  simply  as  a  '  sensation.'  It  seems 
of  no  use.  The  invitations  roll  in  as  plentifully  as 
ever,  and  now  I  am  besieged  at  each  hotel  and 
overwhelmed  by  fluttering  frocks  at  the  close  of 
each  lecture." 


175 


XIV. 

THE   HUNGER   OF  A 
LONESOME  HEART 

"  It  is  not  good  that  the  woman  should  be  alone."  —  Old  Testament,  altered. 

/F,  without  each  other's  knowledge,  we  could 
enclose  our  souls  or  even  a  little  of  our 
sight  and  hearing,  in  our  letters  to  our  friends, 
what  experiences  we  would  have!  The  private 
scenes  upon  which  our  letters  often  intrude,  the 
comments  and  conversations  over  the  reading  of 
them,  all  the  phases  of  the  intimacy  of  our  mis- 
sives in  places  where  we  must,  at  the  most,  con- 
tent ourselves  with  a  formal  footing  —  what  a 
broad  new  world  these  would  create!  True,  our 
letters  then  might  be  as  well  considered  and  as 
infrequent  as  those  of  the  old  Japanese  in  their 
artistic  heyday,  who  employed  an  artist  to  deco- 
rate a  scroll,  another  to  write  the  message  upon 
it,  and  then  another  to  fabricate  a  beautiful  box 
of  lacquer  for  its  envelope  —  the  same  exquisite 
casket  to  which  our  ladies  of  the  OccH^nt  have 

176 


The  Millionairess  $& 

fallen  heirs  and  now  use  for  a  glove  box.  But 
costly  and  important  as  letter  writing  would  then 
become,  perhaps  we  should  say  as  the  Irish  sailor 
did  when  he  was  being  sewn  up  in  a  shotted  sack 
for  having  scaled  the  walls  of  a  Turkish  harem : 
"  It's  a  bother  —  but  'twas  worth  it." 

This  written  wail  of  Bryan's,  for  instance, 
condemning  Fashion  upon  new  counts,  came  to 
Laura  in  the  heat  of  preparation  for  the  greatest 
social  triumph  of  her  life.  She  was,  indeed,  so 
busy  with  Pleasure  that  she  did  not  notice  the 
irony  of  the  coincidence.  Mechanics  were  setting 
up  two  ornamental  fountains  in  the  flower-beds 
that  flanked  the  ends  of  the  Clock  House.  Elec- 
tricians were  hanging  glass  bulbs,  as  fruit  would 
grow,  upon  the  largest  trees  that  skirted  the 
further  side  of  the  main  lawn  before  the  mansion. 
Carpenters  were  girdling  the  giant  elm  at  the 
lawn's  end  with  a  music  gallery  —  to  cover  which 
with  gay  cloth  other  workmen  were  in  waiting. 
At  the  edge  of  the  broad  gravelled  drive  others 
were  setting  up  a  mast  upon  which  was  to  be 
hung  an  arc-light.  And  in  an  opening  among  the 
trees  a  red  and  white  marquee,  for  use  as  a  per- 
formers' retiring  room,  was  already  up  and  lend- 

177 


The  Millionairess 


ing  its  colour  to  the  scene.  Two  great  cases  of 
china,  glass,  and  plate  from  a  caterer's  had  been 
set  down  by  the  servants'  door  in  the  back,  and 
the  caterer's  agent  was  standing  by  them,  watch 
in  hand,  despairing  of  the  coming  of  his  cooks 
and  waiters,  but  determined  that,  at  least,  the 
heavy  cases  which  had  arrived  should  not  now 
escape. 

Still  other  workmen  were  covering  the  stairs 
and  passages  with  crash,  and  Laura's  own  serv- 
ants, under  her  eye  as  she  stood  on  the  lawn,  were 
decorating  the  monotonous  brick  wall  of  the 
mansion  by  hanging  from  each  window  a  Persian 
rug  patterned  in  red,  yellow,  and  black.  Her 
plan  was  that  three  of  the  four  sides  of  the 
garden,  already  illuminated  on  two  sides  by  the 
marquee  and  the  band  gallery,  should  vie  with  one 
another  in  colour. 

'  You're  showing  too  much  of  the  rugs,  Miss 
Johnson,"  Laura  called  to  the  housekeeper,  who 
was  at  one  of  the  windows.  "  Measure  the 
height  of  half  the  window,  from  the  sill  to  the 
upper  sash,  and  then  hang  exactly  that  length 
of  each  rug  from  each  window.  I  am  certain 
that  will  look  well,  but  be  sure  to  call  me  when 
one  line  is  finished."  178 


The  Millionairess  HS- 

"  Vanity,  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit,"  said 
some  one  behind  her  back.  "  A  tithe  of  this 
expense  —  a  tiny  fraction  of  the  time  and  energy 
thus  wasted  on  frivolity  —  think  what  it  would 
mean  if  expended  in  charity  and  good  works." 

It  was  York  Stone  who  had  come  unheeded 
upon  the  lawn.  Laura  turned  upon  him  swiftly, 
and,  tossing  her  head  with  a  gesture  of  spirited 
defiance,  prepared  to  defend  herself.  He  met 
her  eyes  with  a  grave  expression. 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Stone,"  said  she.  "  If 
you  are  going  to  find  fault,  too,  then  I  know  I 
must  be  doing  wrong,  but  I  can't  feel  it,  I  cannot 
believe  it ;  and  I  sometimes  think  if  every  serious 
friend  turns  upon  me  and  pursues  me  with  re- 
proaches for  what  I  still  feel  innocent  in  doing, 
I  shall  —  I  shall  persist  in  my  fault  and  —  and 
I  sha'n't  care  any  more." 

'  Tinsel,  bunting,  music,  wine,  the  short-lived 
sparkle  of  bright  eyes,  the  froth  of  human  wit; 
oh-h-h  "  —  here  a  long  groan ;  "  oh-h-h,  Miss 
Lamont,  what  things  are  these  for  thee  to  live 
for?" 

"  Are  you  in  earnest  or  are  you  teasing  me?  " 

"  Ha !  ha !  ha !  ha !  "  the  young  rector  roared, 

179 


The  Millionairess 


and  then  again,  "  ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  "  in  a  fit  of  loud 
laughter.  "  In  earnest,"  said  he,  "  ay,  Miss 
Lament,  these  are  tears  which  you  mistake  for 
laughter.  Excuse  my  grief.  Would  any  man 
laugh  to  see  a  young  lady  misspend  her  life? 
Would  Mr.  Paton  laugh?  Would  Mr.  Cross? 
The  hanging  gardens  of  Babylon,  suggested  by 
that  fiddlers'  gallery;  the  gaudy  drapery  at  each 
window  recalling  the  Oriental  splendour  of  By- 
zantium; this  pole,  reminiscent  of  the  favourite 
ornaments  of  the  cruel  doges  ;  the  fountains,  sym- 
bolising the  waste  of  every  era  since  Solomon; 
the  loops  of  light  suggesting  Nero's  fearful  means 
of  turning  night  into  day;  oh-h-h-h,  Sister  La- 
mont  —  ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  "  And  off  his  spirits  went 
in  a  fit  of  laughter. 

"You  don't  think  it's  wickedness,  then?" 
"  Well,"  said  the  man  of  piety  and  of  high 
spirits,  "  to  tell  the  truth,  I've  a  considerable  doubt 
whether  you  have  any  original  sin  left  in  you,  and, 
where  there  is  so  much  wickedness  without  doubt, 
I  think  we  ought  to  be  too  busy  to  bother  with 
that  of  which  we  are  not  at  all  certain." 

"  I  received  attentions  and  courtesies  from  a 
great  many  persons  in  town  last  winter,"  Laura 

1  80 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

remarked ;  "  and  I  was  not  able  to  return  them 
there,  so  I  thought  I  would  give  a  rather  elaborate 
entertainment  to  all  my  best  friends  and  acquaint- 
ances before  the  weather  grows  too  cool  for  me 
to  utilise  my  garden  as  well  as  my  house." 

"  You've  hired  the  whole  hotel  for  your  over- 
flow, they  say,  and  refurnished  the  bedrooms." 

"  Do  people  say  that?  "  Laura  inquired.  "  It 
isn't  true.  I  have  taken  the  bedrooms  for  to- 
morrow night  —  there  are  only  eight  —  and  in 
two  that  were  very  shabby  I  have  put  some  cot- 
tage furniture  which  I  mean  to  give  afterwards 
to  a  servant  who  is  to  be  married  next  month. 
I'm  going  to  send  the  bachelors  to  the  hotel  and 
entertain  the  ladies  and  married  people  here  in  the 
house.  It  all  looks  very  pretentious,  but  I  hoped 
it  only  seemed  so  to  me  because  I  am  managing 
it.  My  guests  cannot  be  aware  of  half  the 
trouble  I've  been  to.  And  as  a  mere  polite  effort 
to  meet  my  obligations  it  seems  as  little  as  I 
can  do." 

"  I  only  wish  they  could  know  how  far  from 
frivolous  you  are,"  the  clergyman  said.  "  Oh, 
I  know  that  you  do  not  wish  your  work  known, 
and  I  honour  you  for  the  feeling,  but,  all  the  same, 

181 


The  Millionairess 


it  is  a  pity  that  such  an  example  to  others  should 
be  lost.  I  have  come  in  answer  to  your  letter; 
can  we  talk  of  your  work  out  here  ?  " 

"  Better  go  in  the  library,  I  think,"  she  an- 
swered, and  led  the  way  into  the  house.  "I'll 
call  mother.  She  does  not  know  that  you  are 
here." 

When  Mrs.  Lament  came  down  to  join  Mr. 
Stone  and  her  daughter  in  the  library,  she  gave 
him  a  look  which  (had  he  known  as  much  as 
we)  he  would  have  interpreted  to  mean  "  be  kind 
to  her."  That  was  the  elder  lady's  spoken  or 
signalled  injunction  to  every  gentleman  caller, 
among  all  of  whom,  she  could  foresee,  there  must 
eventually  be  one  to  prove  himself  the  man  of 
destiny. 

"  I  have  done  as  you  suggested,"  said  Mr. 
Stone.  "  The  second  year  is  ending  and  we  can 
look  forwards  and  backwards  —  backwards  upon 
a  promising  growth  in  values  and  returns,  I  am 
happy  to  say,  and  forwards  with  good  hopes. 
The  five-acre  lot  at  Wapata  has  —  " 

But  there  is  no  intention  here  to  enter  with 
them  upon  their  discussion  of  the  profits  and 
losses  —  mainly  the  latter  —  and  the  hopes  and 

182 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

plans  of  this  warm-hearted,  open-handed  fair 
philanthropist  and  her  man  of  affairs,  so  singu- 
larly chosen  (or  elected  by  himself)  from  among 
the  clergy. 

Rather  let  us  merely  catch  at  the  end  of  the 
dialogue,  since  that  does  not  tend  to  lead  us  from 
the  main  theme  —  the  heart  wanderings  and  the 
social  adventures  of  this  maiden  millionaire. 

"  I  shall  deserve  your  praise,"  Miss  Lament 
was  saying,  "  when  I  can  feel  that  I  am  doing 
all  that  I  am  conscious  is  demanded  of  me,  and 
that  will  only  be  when  I  buy  out  the  tavern  in 
the  village,  and  manage  it  or  have  it  managed 
in  concert  with  our  plans.  Its  barroom  is  the 
greatest  obstacle  to  the  complete  happiness  of 
my  tenants  and  neighbours,  and  to  our  entire 
success  in  helping  them.  Properly  managed,  for 
the  sale  of  only  wines  and  beer,  of  the  purest 
make,  and  by  some  one  who  will  not  sell  to 
drunkards  or  children,  or  keep  the  place  open 
beyond  the  legal  hours,  it  would  not  harm  my 
people  or  hinder  my  work." 

"  You  must  never  dream  of  managing  a  bar- 
room," Mr.  Stone  replied.  "  The  idea  of  a  young 
lady  in  such  a  relation  to  the  public  is  too  start- 

183 


The  Millionairess 


ling  for  people  to  view  it  correctly.  I  could  do 
it  —  that  is,  I  should  hope  to  be  able  to  obtain 
permission  from  my  bishop  —  " 

:<  You  —  a  clergyman  !  "  Laura  exclaimed  ; 
"  you  must  not  even  speak  of  it." 

"  And  yet  a  dozen  or  more  clergymen,  aware 
that  prohibition  has  proven  worse  than  a  failure, 
already  manage  such  resorts  in  England.    To  do 
good  —  to  lessen  the  sum  of  evil  in  the  world  - 
that  is  a  clergyman's  duty." 

"  Oh,  I  know,"  she  replied  —  showing  by  her 
tone  that  she  did  not  know  ;  "  but  you  have  to 
consider  your  church  and  brothers  of  the  clergy, 
while  I  am  alone;  I  have  no  one,  nothing  to 
hinder.  Clearly,  I  am  the  one  to  do  it.  How 
often  we  talk  about  it  in  just  this  way.  We 
always  talk  'round  in  a  circle  and  come  to  no 
conclusion.  I  do  not  want  to  do  it,  but  it  must 
be  done,  and  I  am  the  one  to  undertake  it." 

"  My  dear  Miss  Lamont,"  said  the  handsome 
young  rector,  pausing  to  take  both  her  hands  in 
his  own.  "  My  dear  Miss  Lamont,  you  have  your 
sex,  your  position,  your  maidenhood  to  regard." 

"  Then  I  wish  I  were  a  man,  a"  worker,  and 
the  head  of  a  family,"  said  she.  But  she  was  not 

184 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

thinking  of  what  she  said.  On  the  contrary,  she 
was  leaving  her  hands  in  his  another  second  or 
two  on  purpose  to  discover  whether  by  any  chance 
he  would  invest  his  grasp  with  even  the  slightest 
sign  of  what  she  would  have  called  "  a  human 
feeling."  She  waited  and  watched  for  a  betrayal 
of  personal  feeling,  a  tiny  liberty,  or  even  a  slight 
relaxing  and  tightening  of  his  hold  upon  her. 
She  was  disappointed.  She  drew  her  hands  away, 
almost  with  a  sigh. 

"  It's  becoming  rather  a  hackneyed  saying  with 
me,"  Mr.  Stone  remarked,  "  but  I'll  repeat  it  — 
I  think  you  are  a  very  wonderful  woman." 

"  And  you  are  a  singular  man,"  she  said  to 
herself,  as  she  heard  the  door  close  behind  him. 
Having  merely  recorded  this  thought,  she  was 
ashamed  and  blushed  as  if  some  one  might  have 
heard  it  and  divined  the  impulse  which  prompted 
it. 

She  walked  to  the  table  and  collected  her 
books  and  papers,  but  her  mind  clung  to  its 
sensation  —  so  unmaidenlike,  so  almost  im- 
modest. 

"  I  don't  care,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  he  is 
singular.  And  so  is  Cousin  Archie;  and  I  am 

185 


The  Millionairess 


sure  that  it  is  just  as  well  they  are;  though,  as 
for  Mr.  Stone,  I  really  do  think  him  strong  and 
manly.  I  lean  upon  him.  And  so  is  Mr.  Beek- 
man  singular  "  —  but  at  the  mere  mention  of  the 
name  of  this  cavalier,  who  was  more  distant  than 
either  of  the  others  in  his  manner,  her  blushes 
came  again.  And  this  time  they  felt  scorching 
hot  upon  her  cheeks. 


1 86 


XV. 

CUPID   BUNGLES  A    LITTLE 

"  Then  the  fiddling  and  fifing  and  strumming  begin  — 
Such  whirling  and  twirling  and  skirling  and  din." 

—  Goethe. 

ON  her  night  of  nights  —  when  Miss 
Lament  gave  her  grand  party,  the  great 
dial  in  the  tower,  from  which  the  "  Clock 
House "  got  its  name,  looked  down  upon  a 
score  of  women  in  faultless  costume  and  with 
such  grace  and  colours  as  vied  with  the  most 
brilliant  charms  of  the  garden;  upon  another 
score  of  men  full  of  the  strong  calm  dignity  of  its 
trees.  At  times  all  glided  with  the  music  as 
lightly  as  it  floated  through  the  air,  and,  for  an 
hour,  a  dozen  guests  recited  the  mirthful  lines  of 
a  comedietta  by  Archie  Paton,  not  too  suggest- 
ive of  Boccaccio  —  yet  full  of  the  charm  and 
colour  of  his  scene-settings  and  blending  with 
the  surroundings  of  verdure,  sky,  luxury,  false 
lights,  and  the  merry  spirit  of  a  holiday. 

Later,  the  scene  was  shifted  to  the  great  dining- 

187 


The  Millionairess 


hall,  where  the  women's  eyes  flashed  back  the  bril- 
liant banquet-jets  and  their  lips  and  cheeks  and 
showy  dresses  echoed  the  glory  of  the  flowers  up- 
on the  walls  and  table  ;  where  the  men  expressed 
by  easy  attitudes  and  witty  speech  the  confidence 
which  marks  men  as  the  gods  of  earth.  After  the 
supper  and  its  bubbling  cheer,  a  half  a  dozen  of 
the  ladies  and  a  gentleman  or  two  appeared  in 
a  semi-ballet  and  semi-operetta  called  "  The  Loves 
of  the  Flowers,"  written  and  put  into  music  by 
two  members  of  the  Boozers.  There  were 
ballads  by  the  ladies,  Miss  Lament  herself  singing 
two  or  three  Italian  love-songs.  Mr.  Courtlandt 
Beekman  told  the  beautiful  story  of  a  Chinese 
drama.  Hours  were  spent  in  these  ways  between 
dinner  and  midnight-supper,  but  no  one  heeded 
them  at  the  time  or  ever  ceased  to  wish  for  their 
return  afterward. 

York  Stone  had  promised  to  attend,  but  was 
kept  away  by  the  serious  illness  of  the  wife  of 
a  labourer,  "  a  Romanist,"  he  waggishly  wrote, 
"  yet  as  human,  apparently,  as  if  she  were  of  the 
Episcopalian  elect."  Archie  Paton  was  among 
the  guests,  though  he  fell  into  disfavour  with 
the  other  ladies  by  decoying  the  men  into  the 

1  88 


The   Millionairess  H£ 

library  where  the  strong  waters  and  cigars  were 
set  out  for  them.  Two  or  three  times  deputations 
of  pretty  women  went  to  the  library  to  complain 
that  they  were  abandoned  by  their  cavaliers,  and 
each  time  they  reported  that  Archie  was  the 
Yorick  who  was  "  setting  the  table  in  a  roar  " 
and  proving  a  stronger  magnet  than  their  fair 
selves.  But  Archie  was  very  attentive  to  Mrs. 
Lament  at  times,  and  eventually  regained  in  part 
the  ground  he  had  lost  with  his  young  cousin 
by  saying  that  he  would  stay  a  week  if  he  might, 
as  his  newr  book  was  "  flowing  like  a  bursted 
reservoir "  and  he  felt  that  he  could  perform 
wonders  away  from  the  distractions  of  town. 

This  was  before  she  had  enjoyed  a  delightful 
half -hour  of  marked  attention  from  Courtlandt 
Beekman.  It  is  doubtful  whether  after  that  great 
joy  she  would  have  beamed  such  warm  thanks  and 
evident  delight  upon  her  cousin  as  she  vouchsafed 
to  him  when  he  intruded  himself  in  the  midst  of 
her  concern  over  what  seemed  the  studied  neglect 
of  Mr.  Beekman. 

Courtlandt  had  been  polite  to  her,  yet  no  more 
so  than  to  every  other  woman  at  the  party.  And 
as  she  watched  him  and  weighed  his  manner 

189 


The  Millionairess 


toward  her  she  grew  wretchedly  jealous  and 
envious  of  the  others.  For  again,  he  was  the 
king  among  the  men,  the  master  among  the 
women.  No  man  there  compared  with  him  in 
looks  or  build  or  in  the  proud  yet  easy  habit 
of  command  that  was  his  as  if  by  birth.  Not  one 
other  in  that  company,  of  either  sex,  possessed 
such  grace  of  movement  or  such  genius  in  tact  and 
in  a  form  of  wit  that  was  always  brilliant  and 
never  unkind. 

Suddenly  he  came  to  her  side,  and  said  that 
he  had  been  waiting  a  long  while  to  see  her  by 
herself  and  to  thank  her  for  remembering  him. 

"  For  though  you  made  a  deep  impression 
upon  me  at  the  club  in  New  York,"  he  said,  "  I 
had  no  reason  to  suppose  that  I  would  be  remem- 
bered by  you." 

"  You  forget,"  Laura  replied,  "  that  you  pre- 
dicted that  you  were  some  day  to  know  me  very 
well." 

"  Better  than  I  know,  or  ever  knew,  man  or 
woman  on  earth  !  "  Courtlandt  answered,  repeat- 
ing his  very  words  at  the  interview  she  had  re- 
called to  mind.  "  I  feel  that  to  be  so  true  that 
I  am  impatient  at  this  meeting  and  shall  be  —  I 

190 


The   Millionairess  H£ 

fear  —  at  any  that  does  not  fulfil  the  alluring 
prospect  I  saw  before  my  mental  sight  when 
I  first  spoke  those  words  to  you.  Do  not  think 
me  presumptuous  —  the  prospect  was  only  of  a 
chance  —  more  than  one  chance  —  to  be  of 
slight  service  to  you.  Naturally,  I  inferred  that 
if  I  ever  were  so  fortunate  as  to  serve  you  we 
must  by  that  means  come  to  know  one  another." 

"  And  do  you  remember  that  I  said  you  were 
uncanny  ?  "  Laura  asked.  She  meant  only  to  avoid 
replying  to  his  peculiar  promise  of  future  inti- 
macy, but,  the  moment  she  had  thus  spoken,  the 
rudeness  of  such  a  slighting  reply  to  so  manly 
a  promise  of  service  struck  her,  and  she  burned 
with  shame. 

"  Oh,  forgive  me,  Mr.  Beekman,"  said  she,  "  I 
did  not  mean  that  in  the  way  it  sounded.  I  only 
meant  —  I  really  only  —  " 

"  But  I  see  no  reason  for  an  apology,"  he 
answered.  "  That  reminds  me,  by  the  way,  that, 
if  I  should  not  apologise  for  airing  a  trifling 
power  I  possess,  I  should  at  least  explain  it.  I 
do  not  want  to  appear  either  uncanny  or  vain." 

He  then  told  her  that  his  occasional  ability  to 
foresee  events  which  were  about  to  happen,  and 

191 


The  Millionairess 


his  seeming  divination  of  the  thoughts  and  im- 
pulses of  others,  was  very  limited  in  its  scope, 
and  was  in  some  degree  possessed  by  millions  of 
men  and  women.  It  came,  he  thought,  of  school- 
ing one's  mind  to  thinking  away  from  one's  self, 
of  reflection,  and  of  being  much  in  solitude  or 
with  men  whose  language  he  could  not  speak. 
He  had  seen  the  power  developed  in  a  Buddhist 
priest  in  Japan  to  such  proportions  as  to  be  really 
awesome.  On  the  day  that  the  Empress  Eliza- 
beth of  Austria  was  murdered,  this  priest,  in  his 
cottage  in  Japan,  told  him  that  "  a  Western 
queen  had  been  shot." 

"  Could  I  project  my  mind  as  far  as  that," 
Beekman  said,  "  or  could  I  develop  a  mentality 
so  sensitive  to  the  most  distant  influences,  I  might 
seriously  vaunt  my  powers.  As  it  is,  I  only 
stumble  a  little  more  frequently  than  most  other 
persons  upon  revelations  which  might  very  gen- 
erally, I  think,  have  been  gained  by  mere  intense 
observation  of  the  Sherlock  Holmes  order.  In- 
deed, my  solitary  journeys  and  long  experiences 
among  peoples  of  strange  speech  and  more 
strange  customs  have  so  developed  my  powers 
of  observation  that  perhaps  all  my  apparently 

192 


The   Millionairess  HS- 

mysterious  inklings  may  be  only  feats  of  watch- 
fulness and  study  of  my  surroundings." 

"  That  would  not  account  for  your  saying 
what  you  did  to  me,"  she  suggested. 

He  looked  into  her  eyes  for  a  second,  was 
about  to  speak,  then  checked  himself  and  laughed 
merrily. 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  what  I  said  of  my  one  day 
knowing  you  was  of  your  doing  rather  than  mine. 
You  said  it  to  me  first  —  or  hinted  it  —  though 
you  may  not  have  been  conscious  of  it." 

"I?     Why,  what  do  you  mean?"  she  asked. 

"  I  mean  a  very  trite,  ordinary  thing  indeed," 
he  said,  again  looking  inquiringly  into  her  face. 
"  It  is  something  I  cannot  tell  you  if  you  do 
not  know  it,  yet  it  is  as  commonplace  and  as  old 
—  as  old  as  —  the  human  race  itself." 

"I  wish  you  would  tell  me.  It  is  not  nice  to 
laugh  and  not  explain." 

"  You  are  right,"  he  said ;  "  quite  right.  I 
mean,  then,  that  when  I  first  saw  you  I  read  in 
your  eyes  that  we  might  be  friends  if  we  would; 
that  we  were  not  repellent  forces  —  perhaps  that 
is  all  I  read ;  or,  perhaps,  it  meant  more  than  that. 
You  must  know  how  much  I  read." 

193 


The  Millionairess 


"  But  you  said  it  when  you  were  blindfolded 
and  only  heard  me  speak." 

"  Did  I?  Why,  yes,"'he  added,  loving  to  tease 
her  and  to  play  close  to  the  edge  of  an  unwar- 
ranted delicate  declaration,  "  then  it  must  have 
been  your  voice  which  made  me  dare  presume 
that,  in  years  to  come,  we  shall  know  one  an- 
other better  —  as  friends,  you  know  —  and  so 
think  of  each  other,  I  hope,  to  the  end  of  our 
days." 

Thus  they  parted.  That  he  teased  her  is  cer- 
tain, but  that  she  missed  the  true  import  of  his 
carefully  chosen  words  is  by  no  means  so  posi- 
tive. If  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  declare 
his  true  feeling,  it  was  no  less  impossible  for 
her  to  pretend  to  divine  it.  As  she  thought  of 
the  conversation  afterward,  it  seemed  to  her  that 
his  voice  imparted  more  than  his  words.  How 
long  and  fondly  did  she  recall  the  tender  tones 
with  which  he  had  clothed  his  guarded  words. 

In  the  morning,  after  all  but  her  cousin  had 
gone,  the  happy  girl  opened  her  eyes  amid  her 
dainty  laces,  upon  the  many  exquisite  appoint- 
ments of  her  beautiful  bedchamber,  and  felt  her 
heart  swell  and  her  breath  quicken  as  she  recalled 

194 


Tlie   Millionairess  H£ 

this  interview,  with  the  hero  of  her  gathering.  In 
time  she  recalled  that  her  cousin,  Archie  Paton, 
was  now  her  guest,  and  she  began  to  plan  such 
loving  hospitality  for  him  as  she  would  have  liked 
to  bestow  upon  Beekman.  Thus  it  is  with  affec- 
tionate women.  They  will  often  heap  the  kind- 
ness they  feel  for  an  absent  one  upon  the  first 
object  at  hand,  loving  to  do  their  utmost  for  the 
mere  relief  of  expending  the  kindliness  begotten 
in  their  joy.  Thus  it  came  about  that  Laura  be- 
stowed her  gigantic  all  upon  Archie. 

She  arose  early  to  make  sure  of  being  about 
when  he  got  up.  She  breakfasted  quickly,  and 
then  waited  for  the  first  sign  of  his  stirring, 
which  being  given,  she  .fluttered  to  the  kitchen 
door  to  discuss  with  the  cook  what  could  be 
done  to  make  his  breakfast  notable.  The  fruit 
for  the  table  was  carefully  selected,  the  news- 
dealer was  prodded  to  deliver  the  papers  half  an 
hour  earlier,  all  the  principal  dailies  were  taken 
and  spread  out  upon  a  side  table,  and  when,  at 
last,  the  pampered  guest  appeared,  Miss  Laura 
lurked  in  the  passage  and  inspected  everything 
that  went  to  him.  Thus  she  made  certain  that 
the  toast  was  crisp  and  properly  buttered,  that 

195 


The  Millionairess 


the  cream  was  sweet,  the  coffee  was  correctly 
made,  and  that  every  dish  was  perfect.  While 
he  sat  in  solemn  grandeur  she  waited,  now  in 
the  drawing-room,  now  in  the  garden,  seeing  to 
it  in  the  meantime,  that  the  library,  which  was  set 
apart  as  his  workroom,  was  made  as  fit  as  she 
would  have  had  it  for  a  king,  with  flowers  on 
the  side  table  and  mantelpiece,  a  fire  in  the  grate, 
and  everything  in  excellent  order.  Her  mother 
and  the  servants  were  positive  that  marriage  was 
in  the  air.  We,  who  know  more,  are  equally 
certain  that  the  young  lady  was  demonstrating, 
in  the  way  in  which  she  gave  up  these  days  to 
him,  just  how,  when  the  time  came,  she  would 
surrender  the  remainder  of  her  life  to  the  man 
of  her  ultimate  choice. 

When  Archie  emerged,  surfeited  with  good 
fare  and  screwed  up  to  the  proper  nervous  ten- 
sion by  the  faked  or  exaggerated  horrors  of  the 
morning  press,  Laura  was  nowhere  to  be  found. 
Every  servant  said  he  or  she  had  just  seen  her, 
but  none  could  find  her  without  a  great  deal  of 
going  up  and  down  stairs  and  in  and  out  of  side 
doors.  Such  was  her  —  I  had  almost  said  art, 
but  I  mean  such  was  her  sex. 

196 


The   Millionairess  H£ 

Being  found,  she  came  eagerly,  wreathed  in 
smiles  and  as  filled  with  solicitude  as  to  how  he 
felt  and  had  slept  and  breakfasted  as  a  sea-shell 
is  of  sound.  But  when  he  proposed  a  drive  or  a 
tour  of  the  garden  or  a  chat,  she  found  many 
seeming  obstacles  arising  from  her  morning 
duties,  all  of  which  vanished  at  the  point  at  which 
they  were  likely  to  appear  serious.  Therefore 
she  always  did  what  he  suggested,  and,  at  first, 
he  linked  a  hand  or  a  little  finger  with  hers,  and 
was  very  attentive  and  happy  —  and  loud  of  pre- 
tence that  she  was  putting  his  work  out  of  mind 
further  than  all  the  distractions  of  town  could 
have  driven  it. 

This  phase  lasted  two  days,  and  on  each  night 
he  read  the  opening  chapters  of  his  novel  to  her, 
disclosing  a  heroine  in  high  life  with  no  parents, 
but  possessing  a  Madison  Avenue  house,  another 
at  Cos  Cob,  and  millions  upon  millions  of  dollars. 
He  had  not  yet  considered  how  he  should  set 
about  it,  but  he  was  going  to  compel  her  to  be 
actively  useful;  in  maintaining  a  rendezvous  for 
the  poor,  he  thought.  There  they  could  obtain 
advice,  medicines,  and  afternoon  tea,  or  leave 
their  children  with  nurses  and  toys,  hear  lectures 

197 


The  Millionairess 


and  enjoy  the  elevating  company  of  a  sisterhood 
of  shabby-genteel  ladies  that  she  would  found. 
There,  also,  they  could  obtain  work  and  sell 
worsted  stockings,  "  or  whatever  poor  folks 
make,"  he  said,  "  to  while  away  their  leisure 
hours." 

Laura  was  greatly  disappointed.  She  had  been 
prepared  to  have  this  novel  revolutionise  her  life. 
Reluctantly  she  admitted  to  herself  that  Archie 
had  not  advanced  beyond  the  commonest  errors 
of  his  time  in  his  views  of  the  needs  of  the  poor. 
She  abandoned  hope  of  guidance  from  him,  and 
began  to  realise  more  than  she  ever  had  before 
how  practical  and  sagacious  were  her  own  endeav- 
ours. She  determined  to  ask  Mr.  Stone  to  think 
out  with  her  some  entirely  new  scheme  for 
Archie's  heroine.  Her  modesty  forbade  her  to 
make  her  own  work  known  to  him.  But,  in  the 
meantime,  Archie  had  tired  of  reading  his  novel, 
had  ceased  to  twine  fingers  with  her  on  long 
walks,  and  was  too  evidently  becoming  bored. 
On  the  fourth  day  occurred  the  momentous  meet- 
ing with  Mr.  Stone.  Alas!  Archie  treated  him 
coldly.  To  all  intents  and  purposes,  he  declined 
to  discuss  practical  matters  with  him  because  he 

198 


The   Millionairess  H£ 

was  a  clergyman  and  therefore  could  not  com- 
prehend worldly  affairs  in  any  but  a  visionary 
and  sentimental  light.  Laura  afterward  chided 
him  with  having  been  rude  to  her  friend,  but  he 
was  unrepentant. 

"  My  dear  cousin,"  he  said,  "  parsons  are  an- 
achronisms. They  come  in  somewhere  between 
the  ichthyosaurus  and  the  dodo.  They  have  sur- 
vived because  your  sex  perceives  their  helpless- 
ness, and  they  work  your  sex's  sentimentality 
as  if  it  were  a  piano.  Of  this  particular  man's 
church  it  is  said  that  it  interferes  less  with  busi- 
ness and  religion  than  any  other,  and  he  will 
probably  tell  you  that  most  of  the  other  churches 
are  societies  for  the  holding  of  religious  mass 
meetings.  Once  upon  a  time  I  had,  simultane- 
ously, a  coloured  valet  and  a  pair  of  lavender 
trousers.  It  was  a  foregone  conclusion  that  they 
would  gravitate  together  with  violence  in  time, 
and  they  did  so  at  the  end  of  a  year.  When  I 
chided  Sam  for  unblushingly  wearing  the  gar- 
ment in  my  presence,  he  replied :  '  Marse  Archie, 
I  done  been  'shamed  for  to  see  you  wearing  dose 
pants.  'Pears  like  you  dunno  dat  ev'yboddy's 
sayin'  dat  dey  don't  fit  you  nowheres.'  Well, 

199 


The  Millionairess 


cousin,  those  lavender  trousers  and  I  are  like  the 
poor  and  the  priests.  The  world  has  left  one 
to  manage  the  other  for  centuries,  and,  as  it  is 
evident  that  the  priests  don't  fit  the  problem 
'  nowheres/  it  is  time  that  practical  men  stepped 
in  and  took  the  problem  out  of  their  hands." 

Laura  felt  it  on  the  tip  of  her  tongue  to  say 
that  Mr.  Stone  was  sufficiently  practical  to  have 
been  in  the  winning  crew  and  the  football  team 
in  Yale  only  five  or  six  years  ago,  and  that,  since 
then,  he  had  in  all  probability  been  intimate  with 
the  daily  concerns  of  more  hard-working  folk 
than  most  men.  But  she  was  so  hurt  by  her 
cousin's  egotism,  rudeness,  and  irreverent  atti- 
tude toward  religion  that  she  merely  responded 
with  a  forced  smile.  At  breakfast  next  morning, 
he  got  a  round-robin  from  his  friends  in  the  Madi- 
son Club,  saying  that  he  must  come  and  play  one 
or  two  games  in  a  billiard  tourney  which  he  had 
too  hastily  concluded  that  he  had  won,  or  be 
prepared  to  see  the  palm  go  to  a  rival.  He 
sped  to  town  and  returned  the  next  morning,  but 
on  the  following  night  he  went  again  to  the  city, 
and  this  time  wired  to  his  cousin  to  send  on  his 
things  as  "  pressing  business  unexpectedly  de- 
tained him."  200 


The  Millionairess  HS- 

At  the  club  that  night  he  said  to  his  nearest 
friend :  "  I  am  like  the  Irishman  who  came  out 
of  the  hospital  saying  that  he  had  lost  four  weeks 
of  his  life  saving  the  rest  of  it.  I  only  lost  four 
days  to  keep  a  promise  to  a  charming  cousin. 
If  I  had  promised  a  month's  visit,  I'd  have  set 
fire  to  the  house  to  get  out  of  it." 

Before  the  huge  octopus  of  marble  fastened 
its  last  heart-chilling  tentacle  around  him,  and 
drew  him  in  to  sink  supinely  on  the  soft  leather 
cushions  in  its  maw,  he  wrote  a  sugar-and-water 
(the  first  ingredient  was  indubitably  sugar)  note 
to  Laura  and  fancied  that  it  would  satisfy  her. 

Her  incessant  energy  gave  her  plenty  of 
thoughts  to  dull  the  edge  of  her  disappointment 
with  Archie.  For  one  thing,  the  gay  season  was 
opening  in  New  York,  and  she  was  being  invited 
here  and  there,  to  this  dance,  that  theatre  party, 
this  musicale,  or  other  gay  affairs.  During  the 
previous  winter  she  had  spent  her  nights  in  town, 
part  of  the  time  in  a  hotel  and  part  of  the  time 
in  a  flat,  but  this  winter  she  had  an  opportunity 
to  achieve  the  ideal  thing  in  the  way  of  temporary 
quarters  in  town,  by  obtaining  excellent  accom- 
modations, and  paying  for  them  with  money 

20 1 


The  Millionairess 


which  would  help  a  young  girl  to  support  herself. 
This  was  a  beautiful  Canadienne  who  had  come 
to  town  with  her  mother  to  seek  her  fortune,  and 
had  been  driven  as  a  last  resort  to  try  posing  for 
artists.  In  a  fortunate  hour  she  had  applied  to 
Delafield  Wright,  Laura's  friend,  and  the  cele- 
brated painter.  He  utilised  her  as  a  draped  model 
in  his  best  work  of  the  year,  and  paid  her  as  a 
prince  might  have  done,  but  earnestly  advised  her 
to  allow  him  and  his  friends  to  establish  her 
as  mistress  of  a  boarding-house.  All  the  men 
and  women  of  the  Beaux  Arts  Club  worked 
with  a  will  to  start  the  two  ladies  in  a  fashion- 
able neighbourhood,  not  because  there  was  any- 
thing degrading  in  the  life  of  a  model  —  espe- 
cially as  such  a  woman  would  follow  it  —  but 
because  she  and  her  mother  were  manifestly  of 
a  quality  to  make  it  pitiful  for  the  younger 
woman  to  seek  work  of  the  sort. 

So  the  weeks  wore  on  and  established  Laura 
in  her  place  in  the  pleasure  life  of  the  capital. 
They  settled  her  in  her  more  than  occasional 
quarters  at  the  Canadiennes'.  They  busied  her  at 
times  in  her  new  venture  in  supplying  a  large  com- 
munal greenhouse  to  her  poor  associates  in  the 

202 


The  Millionairess  HS- 

flower  industry,  and  her  older  one  of  entertaining 
these  humble  partners  at  the  Clock  House,  now 
and  then,  and  visiting  them  in  their  own  homes 
between  whiles. 

Her  serious  occupations  threw  her  more  fre- 
quently than  ever  in  the  company  of  Mr.  Stone. 
She  became  aware  of  how  much  she  relied  upon 
his  assistance,  and  acknowledged  to  herself  that 
he  was  the  healthiest  and  most  evenly  balanced, 
most  unselfish  character  in  her  narrow  ken.  After 
discovering  that  she  leaned  upon  him,  she  began 
to  study  him  as  she  had  never  done  before.  She 
tried  to  discover  what  was  unsatisfactory  in  their 
relations,  for  she  was  conscious  that  there  was 
something  about  him  which  disappointed  her. 
His  nice  sense  of  honour,  his  robust  adherence 
to  principle,  his  way  of  ranking  his  duties  to 
the  poor  above  his  appointments  with  her  —  did 
these  irritate  as  well  as  awe  her?  She  used  to 
hear  with  interest  of  his  part  in  the  sports  of 
the  village  youths,  rich  and  poor,  and  now  —  why 
should  she  now  have  to  struggle  to  regard  them 
writh  the  same  degree  of  approval  ?  It  had  always 
been  a  matter  of  pride  with  her  that  York  Stone 
treated  her  with  marked  and  formal  respect.  Was 

203 


The  Millionairess 


she  piqued  because  he  did  not  venture  farther? 
Gould  this  be  the  case,  now  that  she  suspected 
Courtlandt  Beekman  of  a  love  for  her  that  gave 
her  a  pride  beyond  all  her  earlier  dreaming? 
Remember  how  affectionate  was  her  nature. 
Remember  how  wholly  without  a  true,  close 
friend  the  poor  girl  was.  Remember,  too,  how 
most  of  us,  of  both  sexes,  love  to  feel  ourselves 
admired.  Admired  ?  Why  is  not  "  beloved  "  the 
better  word? 

"  You  were  glad  of  an  excuse  not  to  come  to 
the  party  I  gave  to  my  city  friends,"  she  said 
to  the  rector  one  day. 

"  I  fully  intended  to  come,"  he  replied,  "  but  a 
serious  case  of  sickness  kept  me  away." 

"  You  have  taken  the  utmost  interest  in  my 
work  among  the  people,"  she  continued,  "  but  the 
other  side  of  my  life,  the  lighter  side,  —  you 
never  show  even  friendly  interest  in  that." 

"  You  have  adopted  my  plans  in  your  philan- 
thropic work,"  he  replied,  "  and  I  am  very  anx- 
ious to  see  them  given  a  fair  trial.  When  you 
first  came  here  and  I  heard  of  your  giving  away 
money,  right  and  .left,  I  was  alarmed.  I  thought 
you  might  undo  all  my  work.  I'll  confess  to 

204 


The  Millionairess  Hf 

you  that  I  lay  in  wait  for  you  and  followed  you 
several  days  until  at  last  I  cornered  you  at  Bar- 
bara Wildey's.  You  don't  mind  my  telling 
you,  now?  I'm  thankful  I  spoke  as  I  did  to 
you,  frankly  and  under  the  strain  of  my  fears, 
because  I  startled  you  into  thinking  for  yourself, 
and  from  that  day  it  has  been  you  who  have 
taken  the  lead,  and  I  have  been  only  a  left  hand 
to  you  in  our  way  of  inciting  the  poor  to  rise 
by  their  own  efforts." 

"  But  my  pleasures,   which  expose  me  to  so 
much  criticism;    you  never  speak  of  them." 
"  I  do  not  know  your  friends,  Miss  Lamont." 
"  Oh/'  she  exclaimed,  in  her  impatience,  "  how 
guarded   you    are.      I   believe    if   you    saw    me 
doing  wrong  you  would  not  reprove  me." 

"  I  hope  I  should  not  forget  myself  to  that 
extent,"  Stone  said,  in  a  manner  maddeningly 
calm. 

"  Suppose  I  asked  you  to  do  so,  what  then?  " 
"  Even  then,"  he  said,  "  it  would  be  presump- 
tuous of  me  to  advise  one  who  is  so  naturally 
good.  Even  you  might  have  unworthy  friends, 
but  you  would  not  keep  them  longer  than  it  took 
to  find  out  their  unworthiness." 

205 


The  Millionairess 


"  But  as  to  '  society  '  in  general;  is  it  an  evil? 
what  we  call  'society,'  fashionable  life,  I  mean? 
Is  its  influence  widening  so  as  to  harden  the 
hearts  of  most  of  those  who  should  and  could 
help  the  poor?  Are  all  who  use  visiting  cards, 
and  all  who  do  not,  being  arrayed  against  each 
other  in  hostile  camps?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  Stone  replied.  "  The  spirit 
of  the  age  is  one  of  idolatry  of  money,  and  such 
minor  phases  as  Bryan  Cross  is  attacking  may 
be  offshoots  of  the  prime  evil,  but,  as  I  say,  I 
don't  know.  I  am  a  stranger  to  fashionable  life, 
and  it  has  hardly  a  footing  in  my  parish.  I  give 
up  my  whole  life  to  my  work,  but  I  am  not  so 
narrow  as  to  condemn  others  who  set  apart  some 
of  their  time  for  pleasure.  It  seems  to  me  that 
the  pleasures  of  well-bred  people  of  leisure  can 
all  be  bad  if  they  give  up  their  whole  lives  to  them. 
A  very  little  wicked  pleasure  is  bad,  and  too  much 
innocent  pleasure  crowds  out  its  own  innocence 
if  it  is  carried  so  far  as  to  require  the  most  of 
our  time  and  thought.  But,  there  —  this  does 
not  apply  to  you.  If  I  were  to  presume  upon 
my  acquaintance  with  you,  Miss  Lamont,  it 
could  only  be  to  tell  you  how  good  and  noble 

206 


The  Millionairess 


I  think  you,  and  how  I  have  been  strengthened 
and  inspired  by  knowing  you." 

He  was  taking  up  his  hat  when  he  said  this, 
and  preparing  to  go. 

"  Oh,  by  the  way,"  he  added,  "  just  before 
you  came  in,  a  servant  laid  down  those  two 
cards.  Now,  there  are  two  young  ladies  who 
move  on  the  edge  and  occasionally  over  the  bor- 
ders of  the  richest  and  most  exclusive  society  in 
America  —  the  Misses  Van  Ness.  When  you 
have  known  them  well  you  will  be  able  to  judge 
whether  the  tendencies  of  a  professionally  fash- 
ionable life  are  such  as  Mr.  Cross  depicts  them 
or  not.  Remember,  though,  that  you  may  need  to 
tone  down  the  picture  these  young  ladies  present, 
for  it  is  gossiped  that  few  others  paint  the  lily, 
Fashion,  with  as  high  colours  as  these  distin- 
guished sisters." 

Laura  took  the  cards,  and,  once  by  herself,  sank 
upon  a  sofa  and  read  them  over  and  over  again. 

"  The  Misses  Van  Ness  !  "  she  exclaimed  ; 
"  the  aristocratic  Van  Ness  girls  !  Henrietta, 
who  was  engaged  to  Cornelius  Kip  and  then  to 
young  Herbert  Lounsbury;  Lily,  the  younger 
sister.  Well,  of  all  the  unexpecteds,  this  is  the 
unexpectedest  !  "  207 


XVI. 

LAURA   MEETS   THE 
VAN  NESS    SISTERS 

"  But  your  face 

Hath  honour  in  it  — and  what  have  I  to  do, 
What  should  I  do  with  honour  ?  "  —  Goetkt. 

rHE  Misses  Van  Ness  were  at  home  when 
Laura  repaid  their  call.  It  surprised  her 
to  find  that  their  house  in  Fishkill  was  one 
that  she  had  often  seen  and  imagined  to  be 
deserted.  It  was  a  large  frame  dwelling  of  the 
"  Mansard  "  period  in  our  country  —  the  early 
seventies  —  when  an  epidemic  of  frame  houses 
with  bow  windows  and  gingerbread  fronts,  each 
capped  by  a  top  story  of  slate,  disfigured  the 
prettiest  of  our  Eastern  towns.  This  particular 
house  had  come  down  in  the  world  by  change 
of  condition  as  well  as  of  fashion.  It  was  begin- 
ning to  whimper  for  a  new  suit  of  paint,  and  its 
grounds  almost  cried  for  the  care  of  a  gardener. 
Few  New  Yorkers  would  have  been  surprised  to 
find  the  Van  Nesses  in  such  a  house,  because  all 
the  gossip  about  these  noted  sisters  who  "  painted 

208 


The  Millionairess  V& 

* 

the  lily  Fashion  in  high  colours  "  suggested  that 
they  had  been  able  to  make  both  ends  meet  some- 
what at  the  cost  of  their  pride.  Gossip,  par- 
ticularly such  as  victimises  unmarried  ladies,  has 
not  a  nice  flavour  in  genteel  nostrils,  but  here 
was  a  case  where  gossip  was  all  but  public  and 
gave  two  young  women  a  continental  notoriety. 
Thousands  who  never  saw  the  Van  Nesses  had 
heard  that  the  father,  "  Larry  "  Van  Ness,  spent 
upon  himself  nearly  all  of  the  little  he  had  not 
squandered,  that  Cornelius  Kip  supported  the 
family  by  loans  to  the  mother  while  he  was 
engaged  to  Henrietta,  and  that  Henrietta  delayed 
the  wedding  for  years  in  the  hope  of  making  a 
better  match.  The  same  public  believed  that 
Henrietta  lost  a  second  suitor,  young  Herbert 
Lounsbury,  by  boldly  defending  her  course  with 
the  first.  There  may  have  been  very  little  truth 
in  all  this,  yet  it  was  common  gossip  about  town. 
"  The  little  fool,"  people  reported  Henrietta  as 
saying,  when  Lounsbury  questioned  her  about  her 
earlier  flame ;  "  he  calls  himself  '  Cornelius  Kip 
the  Tenth,'  but  his  only  real  distinction  is  the 
outcry  he  has  made  about  his  loans  to  mother. 
Everybody  guyed  him  till  I  took  him  up  and 

209 


The  Millionairess 


assured  my  friends  that  he  wasn't  such  a  fool  as 
he  seemed.  He  paid  for  what  he  got,  but  why 
shouldn't  he?  He  had  money  and  nothing  else, 
and  we  had  everything  else  and  no  money." 

The  "  everything  else  "  which  these  sisters 
boasted  was  whatever  came  of  their  sister  being 
the  Princesse  de  Grilliac  of  non-aromatic  repute, 
but  a  rampant  figure  in  fashionable  sporting  life 
in  England.  Her  legitimate  resources  would 
have  seemed  to  require  her  to  live  as  the  ravens 
do,  yet  she  cut  a  brilliant  figure,  and  gossip  rang 
around  her.  However,  of  all  this,  as  of  most 
of  such  things,  Laura  knew  very  little.  Of  the 
Van  Nesses  she  only  knew  that  they  figured  some- 
where near  the  top  of  the  gilded  social  pinnacle, 
and  she  innocently  supposed  that  this  fact  re- 
flected credit  upon  the  ultra-fashionables,  since 
the  Van  Nesses  were  not  rich.  She  did  not 
realise  that  the  most  exclusive  fashionable  circle 
has  a  fringe,  frayed  in  places  and  soiled  in  spots, 
yet  suffered  to  cling  to  it  by  the  force  of  old  or 
high  connections  or  the  ability  to  amuse  or  serve 
it  in  manifold  ways. 

"  So  glad,"  said  Henrietta,  as  she  strode  into 
the  faded  drawing-room  to  meet  Laura. 

210 


The  Millionairess  *& 

The  odour  of  cigarettes  clung  to  her  clothing. 

"  Charmed,  I'm  sure,"  said  Lily,  pronouncing 
the  first  word  as  if  it  were  spelled  "  chawmed." 

With  her  the  aroma  of  smoking  was  even 
stronger. 

"  Maddening  to  have  missed  you  the  other 
day,"  Henrietta  declared. 

"  Especially  as  we  had  to  borrow  Harry  Kim- 
ball's  carriage  to  drive  over.  It's  beastly  to  be 
so  rotten  poor,  but  it  has  its  compensations  — 
for  our  friends,"  Lily  continued ;  "  when  one 
has  to  borrow  a  carriage  in  order  to  make  a  call, 
it's  more  of  a  compliment  than  it  used  to  be 
when  we  were  obliged  to  go  out  if  only  to  keep 
the  horses  fit." 

Very  affectedly  mannish  in  dress  and  more  so 
in  speech  were  both  these  sisters.  Henrietta 
showed,  at  thirty-five,  that  she  had  been  fine 
looking,  and  so  she  was  still,  except  that  what 
was  left  of  her  beauty  had  become  rather  a  work 
of  art  than  of  nature.  Her  complexion  had  little 
other  merit  than  that  it  was  the  best  she  could 
buy,  while  underneath  it  were  seen  the  tautened 
skin  and  pulling  lines  which  come  of  burning 
life's  candle  at  both  ends.  The  light  in  her 

211 


The  Millionairess 


eyes  was  cold,  and  those  women  who  disliked  her 
said  that  she  looked  fast  and  hard.  She  was 
tall  and  vigorous,  with  a  proud  carriage,  and 
many  persons  thought  her  style  of  dress  a  very 
attractive  imitation  of  masculine  attire.  Plain 
tight  skirts,  fancy  waistcoats  and  loose  jackets, 
an  Alpine  hat  in  winter  and  a  straw  sailor  hat 
in  summer,  with  masculine  ties,  studs,  cuff  but- 
tons, and  a  fob,  this  was  the  costume  she  affected. 
Her  favourite  colours  were  dark  blue  or  pearl 
grey,  and  the  material  cloth,  always.  As  for  my 
opinion  of  her  looks  :  sixteen  years  of  the  strain 
of  gay  life  will  leave  some  marks,  especially  when 
it  is  doubled  by  insufficient  means  and  the  hostility 
of  an  entire  sex;  for  it  was  a  little  circle  of 
mesmerised  male  admirers  that  clung  to  Henri- 
etta, as  she  did  to  them.  She  had  their  tastes 
and  expressed  herself  in  their  vernacular  when 
she  was  with  them,  on  their  yachts,  in  their 
after-dinner  relaxations,  among  their  horses  and 
dogs,  or  wherever  she  found  herself. 

Wherever  we  find  a  woman  too  careless  in  her 
speech  we  will  discover  that  her  male  associates 
are  even  more  careless  in  her  presence.  Too  much 
of  the  sudden  new  fault  of  impropriety  of  speech 

212 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

in  woman  reflects  upon  the  men.  And  yef  on  the 
other  hand  it  is  true  that  men  are  what  women 
permit  them  to  be. 

Lily,  the  younger  sister,  was  what  the  other 
women  called  "  baby  pretty,"  a  short,  round- 
bodied,  plump-faced  woman  of  thirty-two,  who 
was  at  war  with  her  surroundings,  and  would  not 
cover  their  nudities  with  even  a  polite  pretence 
of  concealment. 

"  We  were  most  disappointed  at  not  seeing 
your  house,"  Lily  said  to  Laura.  "  We  tried  to 
get  your  man  to  say  that  you  would  soon  return, 
so  that  we  could  go  in  and  have  a  look  around. 
It  wasn't  mere  curiosity  —  not  on  Henrietta's 
part,  for  she  has  designs  on  you.  When  you 
know  us  better,  you'll  run  up  against  that  little 
trait  of  ours,  of  never  doing  anything  without 
a  card  up  our  sleeves.  I'm  not  a  match  for  Henri- 
etta at  it,  because  —  hang  it!  I'm  rather  tired 
of  the  whole  game.  You'll  find  that  out,  too." 

"  What  a  fearfully  smart  thing  your  garden 
party  must  have  been,"  Henrietta  remarked. 
"  How  awfully  clever  to  think  of  giving  it  at 
night.  It  must  have  cost  a  lot.  We  read  yards 
about  it  in  the  Herald!' 

213 


The  Millionairess 


"  And  heard  miles  about  it  in  the  village  shops," 
said  kittenish  Lily.  "  You  un jointed  the  nose 
of  every  woman  who  worships  a  black  silk  gown, 
kept  in  her  wardrobe  like  a  god  in  its  niche  — 
and  of  every  maiden  who  sports  a  diary  for  the 
sake  of  writing  '  George  called,'  '  George  didn't 
come ;  I  wonder  why/  over  and  over  again.  They 
are  slanging  you  for  snubbing  them." 

"Oh,  I  hope  not,"  Laura  exclaimed;    "I- 

"  Don't  pay  the  slightest  attention  to  Lily,"  the 
elder  sister  remonstrated.  "  We're  the  only  jeal- 
ous ones.  I'm  burning  to  know  the  people  you  do, 
Miss  Lamont.  -They  must  be  ravishingly  inter- 
esting —  all  those  authors  and  painters  and  archi- 
tects you  had  down  here;  but  it's  just  as  it  was 
when  Lord  Coleridge  made  that  delicious  break 
at  Mrs.  Lenox-Hill's  about  the  same  sort  of 
people.  Don't  you  know?  It  ought  to  have  a 
pension  for  old  age  by  this  time,  but  I'll  tell  it." 

"  It  was  Joseph's  telling  it  that  enraged  Poti- 
phar's  wife,"  said  Lily. 

"  At  any  rate,"  Henrietta  went  on,  "  Lord 
Coleridge  was  over  here,  and  was  being  dined 
and  danced  and  danced  and  dined  till  his  noble 
digestion  went  wrong  and  his  head  reeled  with 

214 


The   Millionairess  ¥& 

seeing  so  much  waltzing.  '  It  seems  to  be  all 
dining  and  dancing  in  your  smart  set  over  here/ 
said  he  to  Mrs.  Lenox  Hill ;  '  tell  me,  when  am 
I  going  to  get  a  chance  to  see  your  famous  poets 
and  historians  and  explorers  and  generals  ? ' 
'  Oh,  really,  your  lordship,'  she  had  to  say, 
'  none  of  those  people  are  in  our  set.' ' 

"  Don't  you  think  that  was  her  '  break,'  as 
you  call  it  —  more  than  his?  "  Laura  asked. 

"Oh,  la  la!"  Lily  screamed;  "Henrietta,  I 
'  heard  the  bell  ring,'  as  Harry  says,  when  that 
shot  struck." 

"  Whosever  break  it  was,"  the  elder  sister  said, 
"  I'd  like  to  know  the  people  Miss  Lament  had 
down  here.  They're  not  in  it  over  here,  as  they 
are  everywhere  abroad  —  and  it  makes  our  best 
set  rather  stupid,  I  must  say." 

"  Rotten  stupid,"  Lily  remarked ;  "  if  I  knew 
you  better,  Miss  Lamont,  I'd  say  *  damned 
stupid.' 

"  If  you're  going  to  tell  tales  out  of  school," 
Lily  continued,  "  why  don't  you  tell  about  old 
Wetherlee  and  that  Madame  Castella  who  came 
up  in  Corneil  Stuyvesant's  wake  with  his  Creole 
bride;  her  grandmother,  I  mean." 

215 


The  Millionairess 


"  Why,  Lily  !  "  Henrietta  exclaimed.  "  You 
know  something  that  I  don't.  I  did  not  think 
so  meanly  of  you." 

"  Pitch  into  Harry,  not  me,  Henrietta.  He 
told  me  this  at  the  Stuyvesants'  the  other  night. 
Madame,  the  Creole  grandmamma,  was  holding 
forth  about  the  great  departed  Beauregard  — 
who  was  a  little  tin  god  in  Creoledom,  you  know 

—  and  she  used  the  expression  that  '  'e  was  a  man 
of  'onah,   sah,  and  of  ze  'ighest  principle  and 
piety,  sah,'  and  all  that.     Old  Tom  Wetherlee 

—  the  father,  you  know  ;    who  owns  whatever 
Trinity  Church  and  the  Astors  don't  own  —  sud- 
denly broke  in  on  her.    '  God  bless  me,  madame  !  ' 
he   roared    (you   know   that   sax-horn   voice   of 
his)   '  you  New  Orleans  people  are  very  uncon- 
ventional.    I've  been  a  listener  in  the  drawing- 
rooms  of  New  York  since  I  was  a  boy,  and  not 
for  thirty  years  have  I  heard  the  words  "  honour 
and  principle  and  piety  "  spoken  in  one  of  them.' 
There,  Henrietta,  Harry  told  me  that.     If  you 
can't  absorb  the  little  he  knows  in  all  the  time 
you  have  him  to  yourself,  you  mustn't  blame  me." 

"  Oh,  he's  a  good  boy,"  said  Henrietta  ;  "  there 
was  nothing  risque  in  it  or  he  would  have  told  it 
to  me  long  ago."  216 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

"  Harry,  of  whom  we  speak,"  Lily  continued, 
addressing  Laura,  "  is  Harry  Kimball,  who  was 
almost  lynched  —  " 

"  Lily !  Look  out,"  her  elder  sister  com- 
manded. "  That  Bryan  Cross  was  stopping  with 
Miss  Lamont,  you  know." 

"  Well,  of  course,  I  know,"  Lily  replied,  "  but 
I  believe  in  clearing  things  up  if  we're  going  to 
know  one  another.  Harry  Kimball  is  Henrietta's 
Number  Three,  Miss  Lamont  —  her  lucky  num- 
ber, she  thinks." 

"Really!"  Laura  exclaimed.  "Well,  of 
course,  I  cannot  blame  you  for  thinking  what 
you  must  of  Mr.  Cross,  if  you  are  satisfied  that 
he  made  so  terrible  a  mistake  in  that  case." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  care  anything  about  it,"  Hen- 
rietta replied.  "  I've  had  to  row  with  Harry 
to  keep  him  from  airing  it  when  he's  with  me. 
I  told  him  he  might  survive  the  loss  of  his 
morals,  but  that  I  couldn't  stand  a  man  with  no 
tact.  To  seek  adventures  among  vulgar  people 
was  bound  to  lead  to  a  public  row,  and  he's 
learned  his  lesson,  I  think,  but  I  draw  the  line  at 
his  digging  up  the  thing  in  my  presence.  Men 
will  be  men,  Miss  Lamont.  They  are  divided  into 

217 


The  Millionairess 


two  classes  —  the  found-out  and  the  not-found- 
out." 

"  I'm  sorry  to  hear  you  say  that,"  Laura  re- 
marked. "  I  cannot  believe  you  really  think  it. 
If  it  were  true  that  men  were  all  wicked,  then 
our  sex  would  have  only  itself  to  defend  it. 
Were  a  man  of  my  acquaintance  under  such 
suspicion,  I,  too,  should  want  to  hear  very  little 
about  it,  yet  that  little  I  should  demand." 

"  Repentance,  I  suppose  you  mean,"  said  Hen- 
rietta, with  contempt  in  her  tone. 

"  No,"  Laura  said,  "  but  a  positive  denial  of 
the  charge." 

"  I'm  quite  sure  you  must  be  right,  but  —  " 

"  But,"  purred  Lily,  with  the  expectant  look 
of  a  cat  that  watches  a  canary. 

"  You  live  in  a  different  atmosphere,  Miss 
Lament,"  Henrietta  remarked.  "  Perhaps  it's 
merely  idle  men,  such  as  are  the  only  kind  I 
have  ever  had  much  to  do  with,  who  deserve  my 
opinion  of  them." 

"  Why  put  it  all  on  the  men?  "  Lily  broke  in. 
"  Whatever  they  do  in  those  ways  requires  the 
help  of  the  women.  It  is  all  cant  and  rot  to 
say  that  a  woman  has  to  be  sacrificed  every  time 

218 


RE   SHE   LIFTED  A    FOOT  AXD 
SLOWLY  MOVED  IT  FAR  FORWARD' 


The   Millionairess  HS- 

a  man  cuts  up.  I  have  noticed  that  the  women 
who  make  such  a  deuce  of  a  row  when  they  are 
caught  are  often  open  to  a  suspicion  of  having 
an  ulterior  purpose.  What  I  mean  is  that  when 
the  man  and  woman  are  on  an  equal  footing  the 
woman  makes  no  fuss,  and  no  one  cries  out  in 
her  behalf.  If  both  parties  are  poor,  or  both 
parties  are  rich,  there's  no  commotion.  They 
and  everybody  else  recognise  nature's  work,  and 
let  it  go.  It  is  only  when  the  man  is  well  off  and 
the  girl  is  poor  that  the  girl  makes  a  scene  and 
the  man  gets  called  bad-  names.  Deuce  take  it, 
I  say  that  what  men  are  women  are." 

Miss  Lily  was  standing  before  the  fireplace. 
At  this  point  she  began  to  gather  the  material  of 
her  dress  in  both  hands  and  to  slowly  raise  her 
skirt  to  illustrate  what  she  next  remarked. 

"  Do  you  know,  Miss  Lament,  I  once  came 
near  "  —  here  she  lifted  a  foot  and  slowly  moved 
it  far  forward,  as  one  would  do  to  cross  a  muddy 
rill  or  flowing  gutter  —  "I  once  came  near  mak- 
ing —  a  step  —  over  the  —  conventional  bound- 
ary —  and  putting  myself  out  of  the  pale  of 
correct  society  —  till  it  blew  over  ?  " 

"  Lily !  "  from  Miss  Henrietta. 

219 


The  Millionairess 


"  Yes,  and  the  man  backed  out,  or  I'd  have 
done  it." 

"  Oh-h-h  !  "  Laura  exclaimed,  in  unfeigned 
amazement.  "  Of  course  you  are  joking.  But 
how  can  you  jest  like  that?  " 

"  She's  a  great  tease,  Miss  Lament.  Lily,  you 
go  too  far.  You  forget  that  Miss  Lamont  does 
not  know  your  style  of  joking,"  Henrietta  said. 

"  That's  all  right,"  Lily  replied,  a  trifle  bitterly, 
it  seemed.  "  I  am  most  serious  when  I  joke. 
You  see,  I  aint'  trying  to  pull  any  one's  —  limb, 
I  suppose  I  must  say.  You  are,  and  I'm  not  to 
spoil  your  game.  I'm  on,  my  dear." 


220 


XVII. 

BRYAN^  CROSS 
APPEALS  FOR   RESCUE 

"  And  then  I  told  her  all  my  troubles, 
Her  eyelids  dropp'd,  she  held  her  breath  ; 
And,  now  —  my  thoughts  don't  run  on  death." —  Goethe. 

Laura  drove  back  to  her  home  she  did 
not  delude  herself  as  to  the  taste  this 
visit  left  upon  her  dainty  moral  palate.  She 
hoped  that  she  had  seen  the  worst  side  of 
the  Van  Nesses,  and  that  at  other  times  they 
were  far  different.  Miss  Lily's  manner  seemed 
defiant  and  cross.  Perhaps  they  had  been  quar- 
relling. At  all  events,  Laura  looked  far  ahead 
beyond  the  sisters  and  their  ways,  into  the  bril- 
liant, famous  world,  where  Courtlandt  Beekman 
figured.  She  knew  that  the  "  Four  Hundred  " 
could  not  all  hold  such  views,  or  (even  occa- 
sionally, and  in  jest)  indulge  such  license  in 
thought  and  speech.  And  she  was  right.  She 
remembered  to  have  read  and  been  told  that 
there  is  in  the  smart  set  a  clique  whose  members 

221 


The  Millionairess 


love  to  seem  unconventional  and  to  startle  their 
neighbours.  They  are  of  the  hunting  and  yacht- 
ing coteries,  and  spend  much  of  their  time  with 
the  unconventional  men  who  are  most  given  to 
those  sports.  She  argued  to  herself  that  these 
sisters  were  what  are  called  "  men's  women,"  to 
distinguish  them  from  womanish,  or  women's 
women,  and  again  she  was  right.  But  in  hoping 
to  know  the  superior  many  through  the  means 
of  this  acquaintance  with  the  Van  Nesses,  was  she 
right?  It  could  be  managed  with  money,  diplo- 
macy and  patience,  perhaps  —  and  with  a  tough 
cuticle.  But,  even  then,  the  front  door  would 
have  been  preferable  as  an  entrance  way. 

All  of  which  shows  how  much  she  had  to  learn. 

From  her  gate  she  descried  the  silken  skirt 
of  her  mother  at  the  front  door,  and,  from  a 
movement  of  it  which  we  would  not  have  dis- 
cerned, she  surmised  that  something  was  amiss. 

"  Oh,  Laura !  "  her  mother  exclaimed,  grasp- 
ing her  hand  and  clinging  to  it.  "  I  am  so  glad 
you  have  come.  There's  such  news  in  the  paper ! 
Bridget  showed  it  to  me,  and  I  haven't  known 
whether  to  grieve  for  you  or  not.  Did  you  — 
was  there  anything  between  you  and  Mr.  Cross  ?  " 

222 


The  Millionairess 


"  Nothing  but  friendship,  mother.  Is  he  mar- 
ried, then?" 

"  I'm  so  relieved,"  said  the  shadow  of  mother- 
hood. "  I  don't  know  what  it  says.  I  was  too 
flustered.  I  read  the  words  '  Bryan  Cross's 
Love/  and  tried  to  see  if  it  was  about  you, 
Laura,  dear,  but  I  couldn't.  My  mind  went  all 
sixes  and  sevens.  I'll  get  you  the  paper,  dear, 
and  you  shall  tell  me  what  it's  all  about." 

Laura  did  not  wait  to  remove  her  jacket  and 
hat,  but  sat  down  in  a  hall  chair,  and  in  a  moment 
was  absorbed  in  what  she  was  reading.  Ab- 
sorbed and  shocked,  besides,  for  this  was  an 
account  of  what  purported  to  be  a  grave  scandal. 
A  man  named  Buck  Darbley,  it  appeared,  had 
come  to  New  York  avowedly  to  kill  Mr.  Cross 
for  having  induced  his  only  daughter,  Tonette, 
to  leave  her  home  in  Northern  Montana  and  join 
him  in  New  York.  The  man  kept  a  sportsman's 
hotel  in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  there  Bryan 
Cross  had  spent  a  month  nearly  two  years  be- 
fore, since  which  time  the  daughter  had  '  acted  as 
if  she  was  bewitched  '  by  Cross.  She  carried 
his  photograph  about  with  her,  sat  staring  at  it 
for  hours  every  day  in  the  forest,  talked  about 

223 


The  Millionairess 


him  continually,  and  threatened  to  go  to  him 
whenever  she  was  reprimanded.  At  last,  she  had 
run  away  from  home,  and  her  father  was  pur- 
suing her.  He  had  not  found  her  at  Mr.  Cross's 
home,  and  Mr.  Cross,  who  faced  the  father 
bravely  and  calmly,  denied  all  knowledge  of  the 
girl  since  he  had  last  seen  her  in  her  mountain 
home.  Nevertheless,  there  were  found  policemen 
and  neighbours  of  the  Crosses  who  declared  that 
a  strangely  spoken,  queerly  dressed  girl  had 
been  seen  idling  near  Mr.  Cross's  home  only  a 
few  days  before  the  father's  arrival  in  town.  Mr. 
Cross,  the  reporter  wrote,  was  to  lecture  in  New 
Haven  that  night  and  in  Albany  on  the  next 
night. 

"  He  had  a  narrow  escape  from  a  violent 
death,"  the  report  concluded,  "  and  if  he  is  inno- 
cent he  is  to  be  commiserated,  but  if  he  is  guilty 
his  manner  can  only  be  described  as  brazen  in 
the  extreme." 

Laura  read  the  article  again  after  an  interval 
of  an  hour,  and  then  assured  herself  that  beyond 
the  great  headlines  and  perfervid  language  with 
which  its  facts  were  ornamented,  it  contained 
very  little  to  disturb  Mr.  Cross's  admirers.  The 

224 


The  Millionairess 


father's  rage  was  not  justified  by  any  facts  he 
had  to  offer  concerning  Bryan's  behaviour  while 
at  his  hotel,  and  his  failure  to  find  his  daughter 
where  he  sought  her  made  his  public  outcry  and 
his  threat  to  kill  Bryan  take  on  the  character  of 
an  unjustifiable  blow  at  his  own  daughter's  fair 
name.  With  great  impatience  Laura  awaited  the 
next  day's  disclosures,  which  proved  very  puz- 
zling to  her  and  disappointing  to  those  who  are 
always  eager  for  the  worst  in  every  such  case. 
Shelled  and  stripped  of  all  its  word-wrappings, 
the  kernel  of  it  was  that  the  girl  had  not  been 
found  and  the  father  had  gone  back  to  Montana 
with  his  lips  so  tightly  sealed  that  not  all  the 
reporters  in  town  could  get  a  word  out  of  him. 
On  that  afternoon,  as  Laura  sat  over  her 
sewing,  Bryan  Cross  was  announced.  She  ran 
down  to  meet  him,  framing  congratulatory  ex- 
clamations as  she  went.  She  did  manage  to  give 
him  a  warm  and  cheery  greeting,  but  it  was  only 
because  the  impulse  had  been  too  strong  to  be 
overcome  by  the  shock  his  appearance  gave  her. 
Again  he  was  as  we  saw  him  when  he  found 
himself  accused  of  wrong-doing  in  the  heat  of 
his  first  success  as  an  orator. 

225 


The  Millionairess 


"  Oh,  Miss  Lament,"  he  said,  in  an  almost 
sepulchral  voice,  "  unless  you  save  me  I  am  a 
ruined  man." 

"  Why  —  but  do  sit  down,  Mr.  Cross,"  she 
said.  "  What  has  happened  to  make  you  look 
as  you  do?  I  was  shocked  by  the  first  accounts 
of  that  Montana  man's  story,  though  really 
every  one  must  have  seen  that  it  was  a  tissue  of 
suspicion,  or  else  the  wildest  raving.  But  that's 
over ;  now  what  — 

"  It  is  not  over,  Miss  Lamont,"  Bryan  groaned. 
"  It  has  only  just  begun.  The  father  was  right. 
His  daughter  did  come  to  me.  She  is  at  my 
house  this  minute.  Was  ever  man  so  cursed 
as  I  am?  Since  I  was  a  boy,  Miss  Lamont,  I 
have  never  reached  out  for  any  prize,  large  or 
small,  that  some  terrible  disgrace  did  not  throw 
its  shadow  over  the  object.  And  the  worst  of 
all  is  that  in  every  case  I  have  deserved  it.  I 
have  always  been  guilty  as  I  am  to-day.  Oh, 
this  will  kill  my  sister.  I  think  of  her  first.  It 
comes  just  as  a  rich  congregation  of  my  own 
faith  has  offered  me  its  pulpit,  but  I  don't  care 
for  that  —  or  the  ruin  of  my  position  in  every 


226 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

other  relation  I  bear  to  the  world.  I  only  think 
of  the  death-blow  it  will  deal  to  Mabel." 

"  True  ?  You  guilty,  Mr.  Cross  ?  Have  you 
come  to  me  —  a  woman,  also,  like  that  Western 
girl,  to  ask  —  in  pity's  name,  what  can  you  ask 
in  such  a  case  ?  " 

Cross  sprang  from  his  chair  and  wrung  his 
hands.  He  tried  to  find  the  words  he  wished  to 
speak  but  failed,  and  began  pacing  the  floor. 

"  Listen,"  he  said  at  last.  "  It  may  be  impos- 
sible —  or  you  may  judge  me  more  severely,  even, 
than  I  deserve.  It  may  be  that  in  any  case  I 
am  unutterably  selfish  to  come  to  you,  a  single 
young  woman,  in  my  distress,  but  in  the  whole 
world  I  can  see  no  other  who  has  the  power 
to  help  me.  What  I  ask  is  that  you  take  the 
girl  in  here,  into  this  home,  until  the  scandal 
blows  over.  She  will  not  go  back  to  her  people. 
She  has  turned  against  me  with  scorn.  She  is 
sinned  against  by  me,  and  but  for  me  would  have 
been  beyond  the  reach  of  reproach.  O  heaven! 
T  shall  go  mad;  my  sister  will  not  survive  the 
blow  a  day  —  if  you  cannot  see  your  way  to  what 
I  ask." 

"Take  her  in  my  home?  Shield  her?  a  dis- 

227 


The  Millionairess 


graced  woman?  And  shield  you?  Mr.  Cross, 
ask  yourself  if  you  have  not  lost  your  senses 
already?"  Indignation  rang  in  her  words. 

"  Disgraced?  "  Bryan  exclaimed,  turning  in  his 
walk  and  facing  Laura  with  a  searching  glance. 
"  In  God's  name,  do  you  think  that  ?  She's  not 
disgraced,  and  will  not  be  if  you  will  help  her. 
I  will  stake  my  life  upon  it  that  she  is  as  pure  as 
any  woman  alive.  She  has  come  to  no  harm  - 
and  never  will  if  you  or  some  one  of  your  sex 
will  stand  by  her  in  this  moment  of  doubt.  If 
she  only  would  go  home  no  one  could  point  a 
finger  at  her,  but  she  —  she  is  a  woman  and  re- 
fuses. I  offered  to  marry  her  and  make  the  only 
amends  in  my  power  for  what  has  happened, 
but,  again,  she  proved  a  woman,  and  tortured 
my  offer  into  an  insult.  She  challenged  me  to 
stand  aside  and  witness  how  she  would  make  her 
own  way  alone  in  the  East.  She  told  her  father 
the  same  thing.  He  has  a  second  wife  with 
whom  she  does  not  get  along  happily,  and  she 
will  never  go  back.  Father  and  daughter  were 
locked  in  one  another's  arms  in  my  house  this 
noon,  and  he  was  crying  over  her  like  a  child. 
Oh,  Miss  Lament,  you  had  a  right  to  refuse  to 

228 


The   Millionairess  %£ 

help  her,  but  I  did  not  think  you  would  justify 
the  old  saying  that  a  woman  has  no  pity  for  her 
kind." 

"  I'm  sorry  you  think  I  could/'  Laura  inter- 
posed, "  but  you  used  very  strong  words,  Mr. 
Cross,  and  then  left  me  to  infer  that  you  meant 
what  they  implied.  We  would  get  along  ever  so 
smoothly  if  you  would  take  the  case  from  the 
beginning,  and  let  me  understand  it." 

"  You  are  right.  I  am  quite  distracted ;  please 
let  that  be  my  apology,"  Bryan  said.  "  Well, 
from  the  beginning,  the  miserable  story  is  that 
I  went  out  to  Darbley's  when  I  was  in  very 
poor  health  two  years  ago.  He  was  away  with 
an  army  officer,  on  an  exploring  expedition,  and 
there  was  no  hunting.  The  stepmother  ran  the 
hotel.  I  was  the  only  visitor,  and  the  girl  and 
I  were  thrown  together.  To  amuse  myself, 
never  dreaming  of  any  serious  consequences,  I 
yielded  to  the  girl's  extraordinary  desire  for 
knowledge  of  modern  city  life.  I  told  her  no 
stories  that  were  not  true,  but  purposely  made 
the  most  of  the  luxuries  and  brilliancy  of  the 
homes,  streets,  theatres,  and  shops  of  a  great 
city.  I  enjoyed  her  relish  of  what  I  told  her, 

229 


The  Millionairess 


and  for  a  month  she  kept  begging  for  more  and 
more  of  my  descriptions.  If  I  may  use  the  ex- 
pression, which  is  more  against  myself  than  her, 
it  turned  her  head.  She  ran  away  to  see  New 
York,  not  me  —  she  told  me  so  with  the  utmost 
scorn." 

"  And  she's  a  nice  girl  ?  "  Laura  asked,  a 
trifle  tenderly. 

"  She  is  a  diamond,  though  in  the  rough,  as 
you  may  imagine/'  Bryan  replied.  "  She's  of 
French  stock;  d'Arblay  was  the  original  name 
of  the  family.  Her  given  name,  Tonette,  is  the 
ignorant  perpetuation  of  '  Antoinette,'  the  name 
of  a  daughter  in  each  generation.  She  is  about 
your  age  —  an  honest,  wholesome,  fearless  crea- 
ture, beautiful  in  face,  form,  movement,  and  in 
every  posture,  when  she  is  in  her  native  woods, 
though  it  may  shock  you  to  see  how  she  looks  in 
the  realms  of  civilisation." 

'  Yet  you  offered  to  marry  her,   Mr.   Cross. 
That  was  too  generous.     There  seems  no  reason 
why  you  should  have  risked  your  happiness  — 
and  hers,  too,  by  such  an  offer." 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  a  falsehood  —  though  it 
may  be  only  an  omission  —  or  even  allow  you 

230 


The  Millionairess  Hr 

to  think  a  merely  partial  truth,"  said  he.  "  I  was 
not  generous.  I  intended  only  to  be  just  and 
honourable.  There  is  something  I  have  not  told 
you.  I  —  I  —  it  is  very  difficult,  Miss  Lament, 
but  I  must  tell  you.  You  see,  it  came  about  like 
this :  an  accident  happened  to  her  when  we  were 
deep  in  the  wilderness,  and  —  oh,  I  must  first 
tell  you  that,  though  I  never  deceived  her,  or 
made  love  to  her,  or  anything  of  the  sort,  we 
used  to  walk  hand-in-hand,  and  romp  and  carry 
on,  you  know,  like  a  boy  and  girl  —  truly,  we 
might  have  been  brother  and  sister.  And  she 
is  a  madcap,  I  assure  you.  Well,  an  accident 
happened,  and  I  thought  she  was  killed.  When 
she  revived  she  called  my  name,  and  —  and  —  I 
was  very  much  affected.  I  was  so  overjoyed 
to  hear  her  speak  at  all  that  I  —  I  kissed  her. 
Only  on  that  occasion,  Miss  Lament  —  and  not 
above  two  or  three  times." 

"Must  I  have  the  details?"  Laura  inquired, 
for  the  confession  threatened  to  become  embar- 
rassing. 

"  But  you  must  know  it  all  to  know  her.  I'm 
sure  I'd  rather  not  tell  you,  but  if  you  are  to 
know  her,  I  must.  In  a  way  it  bears  out,  or 

231 


The  Millionairess 


easily  might  have  exemplified,  all  I  have  said  to 
you  about  the  perils  of  an  idle,  pleasure-ruled 
existence.  The  conditions  were  all  there,  only, 
thank  God  —  But  as  I  was  saying,  she  had  been 
in  great  danger  and  was  unconscious,  and  we 
had  been  much  together,  and  were  alone  ;  it  seems 
a  flimsy  excuse,  maybe,  to  those  of  stronger  will 
or  calmer  nature  than  I,  but  it's  all  I  have.  I 
knew  I  had  done  wrong,  and  for  a  week,  until 
I  came  away,  I  gave  her  no  cause  to  think  other- 
wise of  me  than  as  an  acquaintance.  When  she 
came  to  New  York  and  straight  to  me,  I  imag- 
ined it  was  due  to  this  advantage  I  had  taken 
of  her.  I  reasoned  that  if  she  had  magnified 
what  I  had  done  I  had  only  myself  to  blame, 
and  I  thought  the  fairest,  manliest  course  was  to 
offer  her  marriage." 

"  It  seems  she  was  less  impressed  by  her  ad- 
venture," Laura  ventured,  laughing  as  if  at  her 
own  light  words,  but  in  fact  to  relieve  her  amuse- 
ment at  his  naive  recital. 

"  I  might  not  have  thought  so  much  of  it  my- 
self, though  I  hope  I  am  not  a  trifler,  if  it  were 
not  that  her  conduct  became  so  extraordinary 
after  that  —  er  —  episode.  From  that  moment 

232 


The   Millionairess  H£ 

she  became  gentled,  softened,  very  unlike  the 
hoyden  she  had  been.  She  followed  instead  of 
leading  me,  and  seemed  to  cling  to  my  presence. 
It  was  a  revelation  to  me  of  more  than  I  can 
express." 

Laura  thought  of  the  kiss  Archie  had  once 
so  chastely  bestowed.  In  that  case  the  girl  was 
not  so  strangely  affected.  Then  she  recalled  a 
line  of  a  German  song  wherein  a  young  girl  is 
said  to  have  been  changed  into  a  woman  in  a 
second  by  a  lover's  kiss.  She  thought  once  more 
of  her  own  single  experience,  and  was  newly 
disappointed.  Amid  all  her  thoughts  she  kept 
silence,  so  Bryan  went  on: 

"  Miss  Lament,"  he  said,  with  solemnity, 
"  on  my  word  of  honour,  Miss  Darbley  told  me 
to-day  that  I  never  had  done  what  I  have  told 
you  I  did.  She  said  that  if  I  had  dared  to  kiss  her 
she  would  have  shot  me,  rather  than  that  such 
a  man  should  live  to  boast  of  it.  Oh,  her  scorn 
of  me  passes  belief." 

"  She  shall  come  here  if  she  will,"  she  said, 
unable  to  evade  a  chance  to  do  a  kindness.  "  Shall 
I  go  and  fetch  her  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Do  you  see  your  way  to  do  it  —  and  will  you, 

233 


The  Millionairess 


really?  "  Bryan  all  but  shouted.  "  For  nearly  a 
week  she  has  been  concealed  in  my  home  by  my 
sister's  housekeeper.  If  Mabel  knew  —  if  she 
even  suspected  that,  for  my  fault,  a  poor  girl  was 
likely  to  be  cast  adrift  in  the  streets  of  New  York, 
as  she  must  have  been  if  you  had  refused  my 
request,  poor  Mabel  would  die  of  shame.  I  could 
have  faced  her  with  the  girl  as  my  betrothed, 
but  the  other  thing,  the  scandal,  would  have 
killed  her  —  and  would  have  ended  my  career." 

Again  and  again  he  thanked  Laura,  and  called 
down  blessings  on  her  head.  There  could  have 
been  no  more  doubt  of  the  sincerity  of  his  grat- 
itude than  there  had  been  of  the  misery  of  heart 
from  which  she  had  now  lifted  him.  It  was 
astonishing  how  quickly  he  grew  calmer,  how 
suddenly  the  colour  returned  to  his  striking  face, 
the  sparkle  to  his  commanding  eyes.  Such  was 
his  extraordinary  nature,  to  which  his  soul  was 
tied  as  to  a  battered  buoy  in  mid-sea,  and  he  must 
sink  or  Svvim  with  it;  sink  and  swim,  in  fact, 
alternately. 

He  had  to  hurry  away  to  meet  his  lecture  en- 
gagement in  Albany,  and  he  strode  along  the 
path  to  the  gate,  his  load  of  anguish  vanished, 

234 


The  Millionairess  ^ 

leaving  only  the  soreness  where  it  had  chafed 
him.  He  heard  the  applause  of  the  audience  of 
the  night  before  new-sounding  in  his  ears,  and  he 
straightened  his  figure  as  he  anticipated  the  tri- 
umphs of  the  night  to  come. 

To-night!  ah,  to-night!  Why,  he  had  almost 
forgotten  that,  because  of  that  which  was  set 
down  for  to-night  his  anguish  over  Tonette's 
escapade  had  been  so  keen,  so  like  a  lightning 
stroke,  as  unescapable  as  it  was  warningless. 
For  to-night  a  deputation  from  a  wealthy  Bap- 
tist church  of  New  York  was  to  receive  his  an- 
swer to  a  call  to  that  pulpit.  And  now  nothing 
interfered.  He  had  qualified  for  the  pulpit,  and 
though  he  had  thus  far  avoided  its  responsi- 
bilities, what  other  end  was  so  becoming  to  the 
career  on  which  he  had  embarked?  He  would 
accept  the  call,  and  from  a  fixed  height  hurl 
down  his  warnings  to  the  heedless  devotees  of 
caste  and  pleasure  who  were  creating  in  Amer- 
ica, as  he  thought,  the  same  conditions  that  are 
proving  a  blight  upon  England,  where  the  people 
are  divided  into  a  hard,  unbrotherly  camp  of  the 
rich  and  of  those  who  admire  and  abet  them,  and 
a  horde  of  helpless,  sodden,  alms-cursed  toilers 

235 


The  Millionairess 


and  parasites.  He  had  kept  from  the  pulpit  be- 
cause of  an  impediment  in  his  belief,  but,  now,  he 
would  summon  full  faith  and  it  would  come. 
Now,  his  seat  in  life's  saddle  was  firm.  He  was 
no  longer  timid.  He  dared  ride,  or  even  break 
a  lance  with  anybody.  Yes,  he  would  accept  the 
call,  and  preach  his  first  sermon  in  a  week. 

Poor  Bryan  Cross!  forced  to  be  his  own 
keeper,  as  every  one  of  us  is,  to  be  sure,  though 
few,  perhaps,  are  so  little  fitted  for  the  respon- 
sibility as  he. 


236 


XVIII. 

TRANSFORMING   A 
FAIR    BARBARIAN 


"  A  creature  not  too  bright  or  good 
For  transient  sorrows,  simple  wiles 

Praise,  blame,  love,  kisses,  tears  and  smiles." 

—  Wordsworth. 


LA  MONT  and  Tonette  Darbley  sat 
stiffly  apart  in  the  coupe  that  carried 
them  from  Bryan's  sister's  home  to  the  Canadi- 
enne's  boarding-house.  The  wealthy  maiden 
looked  steadily  out  of  the  window  on  her 
side,  yet,  from  the  corner  of  one  eye,  she 
studied  the  round  dark  face,  the  dancing  black 
eyes,  the  untrained  body  (like  a  bag  of  flour  with 
a  string  round  the  middle)  of  the  poor  girl  who 
had  flown  across  the  plains  and  prairies  and 
Alleghenies,  as  do  those  wild  ducks  which 
annually  course  from  California's  lakes  to  the 
Chesapeake.  Most  particularly  she  noted  the 
short,  broad,  muscular  hand  of  Tonette  —  strange 

237 


The  Millionairess 


to  a  needle  and  familiar  with  a  gun  —  and  the 
stripe  of  red  wrist  and  arm  between  that  hand 
and  a  sleeve  of  the  jacket  she  had  long  ago  out- 
grown. Laura  raised  her  eyes  to  the  sky  and 
sighed.  In  her  time  she  had  dressed  fifty  dolls, 
but  how  to  dress  this  live  creature  —  mercy 
sakes  ! 

Tonette,  on  her  side,  sat  frankly  studying  her 
rescuer.  She  was  very  nervous,  as  one  could  see 
by  the  way  she  bit  her  lips  and  kept  wetting  them 
with  her  tongue,  and  fumbling  and  fussing  with 
her  broad  red  hands.  Judging  by  what  one 
knows  of  refined  and  softened  girls,  one  would 
suspect  that  Tonette  was  wishing  herself  out  of 
her  scrape  and  back  again  with  a  rough,  easily 
cozened  father  for  a  champion,  and  a  shrewish 
stepmother  thrown  in  for  burdensome  good 
measure.  But  it  does  not  do  to  judge  one  set 
of  women  by  another  set  so  widely  different. 
Tonette,  in  fact,  was  looking  Laura  over  —  her 
hair,  like  ripe  wheat  in  a  strong  sun,  her  peachy 
skin,  her  eyes  of  turquoise,  her  graceful  form, 
so  deftly  fitted  by  her  stylish  dress  —  was  looking 
all  this  over  and  saying,  "  If  I  don't  sail  right 
in  and  hug  and  bite  her  I  shall  scream;  only 

238 


The  Millionairess  && 

I  daresn't,  'cause  she  isn't  human;  she  ain't  the 
same  as  me,  anyhow." 

"First  of  all,  stays,"  Laura  was  thinking; 
"  and  a  shirt-waist  and  a  skirt.  Then  she'll  pass 
muster  for  a  day  in  the  boarding-house.  But 
after  that,  —  oh,  what  an  undertaking  it  will  be 
to  make  a  young  panther,  or  a  deer,  or  whatever 
sort  of  wild  animal  she  is,  look  like  a  human 
creature." 

"  It  will  be  awful,"  Tonette  was  cogitating. 
"  She'll  rear  and  buck  like  a  colt,  but  I've  got 
to  bite  or  hug  her  or  scream." 

Laura  rapped  on  the  front  window  of  the 
coupe,  and  called  to  the  driver  to  stop.  "  Please 
wait,"  she  said  to  Tonette;  "  I'll  only  be  a  few 
minutes."  Then  she  stepped  out  of  the  carriage 
and  passed  through  the  door  of  a  great  shopping 
store.  Five  minutes  later  she  returned,  and 
bidding  the  cabman  drive  around  the  corner  into 
the  side  street  and  wait  there  for  further  orders, 
she  followed  the  vehicle  on  foot.  When  it  stood 
still,  she  got  in  and  produced  from  her  pocket 
a  long  yellow  tape  measure. 

"  I'm  going  to  ask  you  to  let  me  take  a  great 
liberty  with  you,  Miss  Darbley,"  she  said ;  "  I'm 
going  to  —  "  239 


The  Millionairess 


"  Tonette's  my  name,"  said  the  girl.  "  I 
wisht  you'd  let  me  call  you  by  your  first  name. 
Seems  to  me  first  names  is  only  for  servants  and 
children  here  in  the  East,  but  out  my  way  we 
ain't  got  no  use  for  stiffness  of  no  kind,  and  we 
just  Tom  and  Beck  and  Bill  and  Sary  every  one 
we  know.  Out  our  way  last  names  is  for  putting 
on  the  outside  of  letters,  that's  all.  If  you  don't 
mind,  what  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  Laura,  and  if  it  will  make  you  feel  more  at 
ease,  you  may  call  me  so.  Now,  let  me  take 
your  bust  measure  —  thirty- four  —  and  round 
your  waist  —  why,  it's  thirty,  but  when  we  make 
you  over  into  an  Eastern  shape  it  will  be,  well, 
it  will  be  for  you  to  say  about  that.  Now,  please 
stand  right  up,  quick,  before  people  see  us.  Bend 
your  head  and  body,  but  be  sure  and  stand  up 
straight  so  that  I  can  get  the  length  for  a  skirt. 
Thirty-six ;  there  —  thirty-four,  thirty,  thirty-six 
—  thank  you,  dear.  Now,  I'm  going  to  get  you 
a  nice  waist  and  a  skirt  —  pink  or  cerise  or  a  red 
plaid  for  the  shirt-waist,  I  think  will  be  nice, 
and  —  what  about  the  skirt  ?  " 

"  If  I  was  a-going  to  get  me  anything  to  wear," 
said  the  girl,  with  a  faltering  voice,  and  her  eyes 

240 


The   Millionairess  & 

already  afloat  with  tears,  "  I'd  just  get  every- 
thing the  same's  you've  got  on;  you  do  look  so 
sweet.  But  —  but —  '  and  now  she  burst  out 
crying,  heartily. 

"What  is  it,  Tonette?"  Laura  asked,  sitting 
down  and  slipping  an  arm  around  her,  regardless 
of  the  chance  that  passing  pedestrians  might  look 
in ;  "  what  makes  you  cry  ?  " 

"  I'm  so  darn  miser'ble,"  said  the  girl.  "  I 
ought  to  known  it  would  be  this  way,  but  I  hain't 
never  been  away  from  home,  'n'  I  dunno  no  more 
'n  a  shoat  't  breaks  loose  from  a  sty." 

"  But  what's  the  matter  ?  If  you're  homesick 
you  shall  go  home ;  whatever  you  want  you  shall 
do,  dear.  Only  we  must  get  you  some  clothes, 
first,  whatever  you  do,  because  you  will  be  stared 
at  and  made  very  uncomfortable  if  you  aren't 
dressed  like  other  people." 

Tonette  continued  to  cry,  to  try  to  speak,  and 
to  cry  the  more.  Laura  drew  her  to  herself  and 
kissed  her. 

"Go  'way,"  cried  Tonette;  "you  shouldn't 
kiss  me.  I'm  only  rubbage  —  'longside  of  you. 
Gi'mme  one  more  kiss,  won't  you?" 

"  There,"  said  Laura,  laughingly,  bestowing 

241 


The  Millionairess 


another  kiss  on  the  pouting  lips  of  the  sobbing 
girl  ;  "  now,  tell  me  what  makes  you  feel  so 
miserable." 

"  'Cause  I  ain't  got  money  for  no  clothes.  'T 
least,  I've  only  got  four  dollars  and  eighty  cents 
paw  gave  me  when  he  went  away." 

"  But  I've  all  the  money  that's  needed," 
JLaura  said.  "  You  can  pay  me  afterward  if 
you  want  to." 

"If  I  want  to?  Well,  I  guess  I  want  to," 
Tonette  replied.  "  Paw  says  no  Darbley  never 
owed  a  man  a  cent  longer'n  it  took  to  git  the 
money  to  pay  him,  'n'  I  guess  I  ain't  built  no 
different  from  the  rest  of  the  family." 

By  soothing  words  and  coaxing  arguments  it 
was  soon  brought  about  that  Laura  should  buy, 
and  Tonette  should  get  work  and  pay  back  —  a 
ridiculous  arrangement,  though  Tonette  could 
not  know  it  was  so,  and  Laura  was  satisfied. 
Presently,  the  carriage  started  on  with  the  two 
women  holding  a  huge  pasteboard  box  upon  their 
knees.  Only  Pandora's  box  when  it  was  full 
could  be  compared  to  this  magic  receptacle.  Pan- 
dora would  discover  it  more  immediately  service- 
able than  her  own  were  she  to  find  herself  in 

242 


The   Millionairess  Hf 

Madison  Square  at  this  minute,  for  it  contained 
everything  she  would  be  likely  to  need  except  a 
hat  and  shoes.  The  new  waist  was  there  and  the 
promised  skirt,  and  many  things  about  which 
a  masculine  author  can  know  only  as  he  knows 
the  garments  of  the  trees  in  summer. 

"  There  are  pins,"  said  Laura,  "  and  this  is 
my  own  dressing-room,  so  no  one  will  disturb 
you.  I'll  wait  in  my  bedroom,  right  through 
this  door  till  you  come,  all  Easternified,  to  let 
me  see  you." 

"  Say,"  was  presently  heard  through  the  door, 
"  I  can't  make  head  or  tail  of  these  here  what- 
d'-ye-call-'ems."  Therefore  Laura  went  into  the 
dressing-room  and  elucidated  the  mysteries  of 
the  one  rigid,  obdurate,  and  ultra-artificial  gar- 
ment with  which  the  mountain  girl  had  had  no 
previous  acquaintance. 

Perhaps  the  exquisite,  scrupulously  groomed 
city  woman  had  not  been  certain  that  the  uncouth 
stranger  was  safely  to  be  admitted  to  intimate 
relationship.  Such  a  doubt  might  easily  have 
come  of  reflection  upon  Tonette's  rude  past. 
Perhaps  but  for  this,  Laura  would  have  gone, 
without  being  called,  into  the  dressing-room  at 

243 


The  Millionairess 


a  forward  stage  of  the  change  from  chrysalis  to 
butterfly.  At  any  rate,  when  she  did  go  in,  all 
doubt  fled.  It  was  Aphrodite  and  not  Bridget 
whose  arms  glistened  like  well-scrubbed  marble 
before  Laura's  exacting  eyes.  Indeed,  the  doubt 
went  with  such  startling  suddenness  that  when  the 
woman  with  a  dress  and  she  who  lacked  one 
stood  face  to  face,  Laura  embraced  the  robust 
girl  and  looked  into  her  merry  brown  eyes,  and 
saw  Love's  handmaiden,  Affection,  in  them  —  as 
Tonette  did  in  Laura's.  'The  fastidious  had 
found  nothing  about  the  uncouth  that  was  not  as 
sweet  as  a  field  daisy  and  a  hundredfold  more 
lovable.  That  was  when  Love  came  to  make  a  trio 
which  was  never  broken  while  the  mortal  members 
of  it  drew  breath. 

"  We're  going  to  be  good  friends,"  Laura 
said,  still  looking  into  the  laughter-lighted  brown 
eyes. 

"  I'm  only  a  stick  of  driftwood,"  Tonette 
replied,  giggling.  "  There  ain't  nothing  to  like 
about  me." 

"  I  see  lots,"  said  Laura. 

"  And  I  like  you  so  I  could  e'enamost  holler," 
Tonette  made  joyous  answer. 

244 


The   Millionairess  H£ 

For  three  days  clothing  kept  coming  to  Tonette, 
until  at  last  two  Saratoga  trunks  would  not  hold 
all  the  new  things  Laura  bought  for  her.  Laura 
had  found  her  to  be  like  a  new  doll,  in  need  of 
everything  but  a  head,  body,  and  limbs  to  fit  her 
for  the  life  that  lay  ahead  of  her. 

"  You've  come  into  this  part  of  the  world  like 
a  baby  born  eighteen  years  old,"  she  said  to  her. 

"  I've  certainly  got  everything  to  git,  haven't 
I?"  Tonette  answered,  with  her  bubbling  laugh. 

Laura  flew  about  in  cabs  and  cars,  ordering 
boots  of  many  sizes,  hats  of  many  shapes,  and 
dresses  of  many  colours,  all  to  be  sent  to  the 
boarding-house.  There  selections  for  Tonette 
were  made  from  them  under  her  eye  and  that 
of  a  dressmaker  who  came  every  day  and  stayed 
till  night.  Underwear,  hosiery,  gloves,  scarfs, 
collars,  studs,  sleeve-buttons,  handkerchiefs, 
jackets  —  truly  a  stream  such  as  one  might  see 
if  a  mountain  torrent  swept  through  the  largest 
department  store  in  Denver,  flowed  into  the 
boarding-house  and  whirled  into  Laura's  bed- 
room, there  to  eddy  and  deepen  until  it  over- 
flowed all  the  furniture.  Laura  sighed  and  told 
the  dressmaker  that  it  was  the  most  trying  and 

245 


The   Millionairess 


wearing  task  (the  puns  were  unconscious)  she 
had  ever  undertaken.  And  the  dressmaker  sighed 
and  threw  up  her  head  and  rolled  her  eyes  in 
sympathetic  assent.  Of  course,  they  were  not 
taking  each  other  seriously.  The  fact  was  that 
few  women  have  ever  had  the  chance  to  be  so 
happy,  according  to  the  most  cherished  feminine 
ideals,  as  was  Laura  during  this  experience.  The 
joy  of  a  child  who  transforms  a  toggle-  jointed 
sawdust-loaded  toy  into  a  beautifully  dressed 
miniature  woman  is  feeble  compared  to  the  intelli- 
gent artistic  delight  Laura  felt  in  changing  Miss 
Rocky  Mountains  into  Miss  d'Arblay  of  Powell- 
ton,  New  York.  She  wished  that  the  "  sleuth 
hounds  "  who  were  aimlessly  searching  for  the 
girl  could  be  ignored,  so  that  she  might  tell  her 
lady  friends  what  she  was  doing  and  turn  them 
green  with  envy. 

"Have  you  got  a  head  for  business?"  she 
inquired  of  Tonette  one  day. 

"I  dunno;  guess  if  I  haven't  I've  mebbe  got 
one  to  learn  it  with." 

"  I'm  going  to  ask  you  to  help  me  look  after 
a  sort  of  business  I  have  at  my  place  in  the 
country,"  Laura  said.  She  had  seen  that  if  she 

246 


The   Millionairess  Hs- 

transferred  her  market  to  Newburgh  and  opened 
a  shop  or  two  there,  her  new  companion  could 
visit  them  daily,  and  make  the  rounds  of  the 
country  gardens  which  fed  them,  being,  perhaps, 
of  great  service  in  smoothing  the  management  of 
the  entire  industry.  "  You  ride  horseback,  don't 
you  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I'm  part  horse,  myself,"  Tonette  said.  "  I'm 
upper  half  girl  and  lower  half  horse.  I  was  near 
about  born  on  a  horse,  I  reckon.  But  I'd  be 
like  a  baby  again  if  I  rode  here  in  the  East, 
because  I've  always  rode  a-straddle." 

"  Astride  is  how  we  say  that,"  Laura  volun- 
teered ;  "  though  we  never  do  the  thing  itself. 
I'm  going  to  get  you  to  buy  a  horse  to  suit  your- 
self." 

"  Don't  tell  me  any  more,"  said  the  brown  bar- 
barian, "  or  I'll  turn  loose  and  holler  like  a 
Flathead  at  a  sun  dance." 

On  one  afternoon,  while  Laura  was  taking  tea 
with  Mrs.  Chester,  Courtlandt  Beekman  called 
and  met  both  the  ladies.  Mrs.  Chester  was  puz- 
zled by  the  attention,  as  he  had  never  before  pre- 
sumed upon  his  slight  acquaintance  to  strengthen 
it  by  a  visit.  She  whispered  to  her  compan- 

247 


The  Millionairess 


ion  before  he  was  shown  into  the  drawing- 
room  that  "  she  could  not  understand  it  at  all," 
though  she  was  visibly  flattered  by  the  attention. 
Laura  sought  the  explanation  in  her  own  rapidly 
beating  heart,  and  found  it  there.  The  gallant 
and  handsome  descendant  of  the  Knickerbockers 
had  divined  her  presence  there,  she  was  certain, 
and  it  was  his  heart  —  so  well  controlled  and 
masked  to  all  but  her  —  that  had  prompted  the 
visit.  She  blushed  scarlet  from  a  delightful  guilti- 
ness, as  she  told  herself  that  the  visit  was  to  her 
and  not  to  her  companion. 

The  result  of  the  visit  was  a  call  upon  Laura 
later  in  the  evening,  a  drive  to  Mrs.  Chester's 
house  to  take  her  also  to  a  small  dinner  at  the 
Waldorf,  and  then  an  evening  at  the  theatre, 
and  a  supper  at  Sherry's  afterward.  So  studied 
was  Beekman's  equal  division  of  his  attention 
to  his  fair  companions  that  Mrs.  Chester  was  the 
more  deeply  puzzled  the  longer  the  evening  wore 
on.  Not  a  speaking  glance  did  he  throw  to 
Laura,  not  an  instant  did  he  linger  over  the  ad- 
justment of  her  coat  on  leaving  the  theatre;  he  did 
not  even  take  her  hand  on  meeting  or  on  parting 
with  her.  He  did,  however,  so  arrange  the  home- 

248 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

ward  journey  that  Mrs.  Chester  was  first  set 
down  at  her  door  and  he  and  Laura  rode  by  them- 
selves to  the  Canadiennes'.  When  thus  alone 
with  her,  his  wit  and  his  spirits  rose  high,  and 
it  might  have  seemed  to  an  onlooker  that  he  was 
doing  his  utmost  to  make  a  good  impression, 
—  or,  at  least,  that  he  was  very  much  pleased 
with  the  company  in  which  he  found  himself. 

At  the  Canadiennes'  door  he  handed  Laura  out 
of  the  carriage  and  mounted  the  stoop  with  her 
to  wait  until  the  door  was  opened.  Then  he 
said,  "  Good-night,  I  am  so  glad  you  enjoyed  the 
evening,"  and  —  nothing  more ! 

How  "  unconscionably  long  "  —  like  the  merry 
Charles  of  England  —  she  was  in  shuffling  off  her 
(silken)  coil  that  night!  How  often  she  won- 
dered if  she  had  appeared  at  her  best  and  —  copy- 
ing Dandy  Jim  of  Caroline  —  "  looked  in  the 
glass  and  found  it  so."  How  prettily  decked  with 
maidenly  smiles  she  kept  her  sweet  young  face, 
the  telltale  of  her  soul's  communings.  And 
how  long  she  lay  awake  upon  her  pillow.  A 
hundred  times  she  pouted  while  recalling  that 
he  had  not  been  tender  or  akin  to  wooing  in 
his  manner.  But  as  many  times  smiles  chased 

249 


The  Millionairess 


away  the  pouting,  and  she  whispered  to  her 
pillow,  "It  was  I  that  he  came  to  see!  How 
handsome  and  noble  and  brilliant  he  is.  It  was 
not  Mrs.  Chester  but  me  that  he  came  to  see." 


250 


XIX. 

MISS    TONY'S   CONFESSION 


"  Not  so  sick,  my  lord, 
As  she  is  troubled  with  thick-coming  fancies."  —  Macbeth. 


TpROM  Fishkill  to  her  house  in  Powell- 
J_  ton,  the  whole  way  broke  into  a  smile 
when  Miss  Lament  returned,  even  after  a  short 
absence.  The  poor  ran  out  of  their  doors,  the 
tradesmen  lounged  to  the  front  of  their  shops, 
men  of  every  station  raised  their  hats,  and  the 
most  heedless  of  the  gamins  by  the  roadside 
grinned  their  welcome  as  she  drove  by.  "  Here's 
Miss  Lamont,"  "  Miss  Lament's  come  back," 
were  the  notices  that  flew  ahead  of  her.  But, 
when  she  returned  on  this  occasion,  one  imag- 
ined one  could  hear  the  whole  vicinage  say  :  "  God 
bless  you,  Miss  Lamont,  we  thought  you'd  never 
come  back.  But  who's  the  pretty  roly-poly  by 
your  side?  Isn't  she  rollicking,  though,  and  full 
of  mischief?  And  isn't  she  a  swell?  If  you've 
got  her  for  a  foil,  to  set  off  your  golden  blond- 

251 


The   Millionairess 


ness  with  her  black  hair  and  almost  swart  com- 
plexion, you  could  not  have  made  a  better  choice, 
Miss  Lament." 

This  is  what  one  read  in  the  emphasised  smiles 
of  the  people  after  her  long  absence,  and  in  the 
extra  sweep  of  their  hats  and  the  sustained  stare 
at  the  companion  by  her  side.  Village  life  is 
familiar  and  inquisitive  the  world  around;  which 
is  why  the  vulnerable  abuse  it  so,  and  the  vir- 
tuous who  move  to  great  cities  miss  it  and  long 
for  it  all  their  lives. 

Those  phrases,  "  pretty  roly-poly  "  and  "  isn't 
she  swell  ?  "  did  our  imagination  catch  them  cor- 
rectly? Could  they  have  been  called  forth  by 
the  little  rough  chip  of  the  Rockies,  Tonette 
Darbley?  Yes,  indeed,  but  Antoinette  d'Arblay, 
after  this,  if  you  please.  Laura  insisted  that  it 
should  be  so,  and  we  must  exhibit  her  weaknesses 
as  well  as  her  triumphs,  if  we  expect  to  succeed 
in  the  hand-glass  and  mirror  trade.  Tonette 
would  have  liked  Laura  to  call  her  Snip,  Pig, 
or  Rag,  as  Louis  the  Well-beloved  used  to  call 
his  daughters,  if  Laura  had  preferred  to  do  so, 
but  she  signed  herself  Tonette,  and  was  best 
pleased  when  her  friends  addressed  her  as  Tony. 

252 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

She  was  indeed  pretty.  Hers  was  a  round  berry- 
brown  face,  with  jet  hair  half  framing  it,  with 
laughing  brown  eyes  under  coal-black  crescents, 
and  with  very  hearty,  thick  red  lips,  which  spoke 
to  her  love  of  life.  It  was  rustic  beauty,  red- 
blooded,  not  blue,  for  the  colour  always  re- 
sults from  ancestral  training;  in  this  case  inter- 
rupted, but  almost  certain  to  be  caught  up  again 
in  her  children.  As  to  the  other  seven  heads  of 
her  —  it  being  laid  down  by  the  highest  French 
authority  that  the  perfect  human  being  is  eight 
heads  tall  —  they  were  so  becomingly  draped, 
and  so  suffocatingly,  unclassically  but  fashion- 
ably squeezed  in  at  the  middle  that,  to  be  done 
with  the  analysis  once  and  for  all,  she  was  at  once 
"  swell  "  and  a  "  pretty  roly-poly." 

Mrs.  Lamont,  who  saw  in  her  a  radiant  work 
of  art,  and  had  not  understood  her  history,  made 
her  a  courtly  bow,  and  addressed  her  in  keeping 
with  it,  hoping  she  was  not  "  ennuied  by  her 
journey."  Tonette  drew  herself  up  two  or  three 
inches  taller  and  imitated  the  old  lady's  salute, 
saying,  "  Thank  you,  ma'am,  you  can't  phase 
me,"  which  she  prided  herself  was  a  very  choice 
selection  from  the  mother  tongue.  When  she 

2$3 


The  Millionairess 


was  taken  to  her  room  that  was  to  be,  she  burst 
into  choking  laughter. 

"Oh,  dear!"  she  gasped;  "your  mother  — 
wasn't  it  funny  ?  " 

Very  delicate  ice  that  was  for  Tonette  to  skate 
on,  and  Laura's  face  gave  warning.  "  You  are 
cruel  to  laugh  at  my  poor  mother,"  she  said. 

"  Well,  I  wasn't,"  Tonette  replied,  herself 
wounded  at  the  suspicion.  "  I  was  really  laugh- 
ing at  myself  —  dressed  up  in  clothes  that's  all 
out  of  place  on  me,  like  them  that  monkey  had 
on  that  we  saw  in  the  street,  so  that  your  maw 
thought  I  was  a  sure-enough  lady.  Lor-zee  !  how 
surprised  she  will  be  when  I  open  my  mouth 
and  the  sawdust  rolls  out." 

At  dinner  that  evening  Tonette  was  shown  into 
the  splendid  dining-room,  combining  the  best 
taste  of  the  last  century  and  the  choicest  art  of 
this.  She  had  learned  a  great  deal  with  her  quick, 
sensitive  mind  and  eye,  and  no  one  who  saw  her 
take  her  place  at  table  and  rearrange  her  finger- 
bowl,  doiley,  and  napkin  —  utensils  undreamed  of 
by  her  a  few  weeks  before  —  could  have  criticised 
the  performance.  But  the  beauty  of  her  sur- 
roundings overwhelmed  her.  She  could  scarcely 

254 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

eat,  and  to  talk  was  out  of  the  question,  unless 
it  were  possible,  as  she  would  have  said,  "  to 
holler."  Between  mouthfuls  and  between  courses 
she  rolled  her  eyes  at  the  electric-lighted  dado  of 
gold  above  the  ancient  panelling  of  oak,  at  the 
portraits  sunken  in  the  oak,  at  the  flowers,  the 
banquet  lamps,  the  jewel-like  crystal,  the  shin- 
ing silver  —  for  Laura's  table  was  set  in  much 
the  same  way  every  night,  whether  there  was 
company  or  not.  Never  had  Tonette  seen  the 
like  or  read  a  description  of  its  equal,  or  imag- 
ined that  a  repast  could  be  so  bravely  and  beau- 
tifully set  forth. 

"  Oh,"  said  she,  when  she  was  alone  with  her 
benefactress,  "  if  Bryan  Cross  described  such 
luxury  (the  author  is  putting  her  ideas  into  his 
own  words)  I  never  realised  his  full  meaning. 
This  is  what  I  ran  away  from  home  to  see;  this 
is  what  I  tried  to  imagine  as  the  sort  of  home 
that  all  Bryan's  beautiful  ornaments  must  have 
been  made  to  consort  with.  But,  now,  I  am 
frightened.  Now  that  I  have  known  you  and 
your  magnificent  surroundings,  I  dread  what  is 
coming  to  me.  I  am  not  such  a  fool  as  to  think 
I  can  live  in  a  place  like  this  except  as  a  servant 

255 


The  Millionairess 


—  a  thing  that  I  would  sooner  die  than  be.  If 
there's  any  kind  of  hard  work  that  can  be  done 
by  a  girl  who  feels  herself  equal  to  the  highest  in 
the  land,  I  will  do  it  to  be  with  you  and  to  enjoy 
these  things  for  which  I  was  born  with  a  longing. 
But  I  know  that  nothing  that  I  can  do  would  pay 
for  such  comfort  and  luxury.  I  am  frightened.  I 
see  that  I  shall  have  to  go  home,  though  I  shall 
pine  away  and  die  there." 

"  Silly  child,"  Laura  called  down  from  the 
great  height  of  a  slight  seniority  ;  "  I  brought 
you  here  at  Mr.  Cross's  request  to  silence  a 
scandal.  Since  then  I  have  been  more  than  repaid, 
for  I  have  learned  to  like  you,  therefore  I  shall 
be  glad  to  help  you  long  after  keeping  you  with 
me  has  ceased  to  be  of  service  to  him.  You  can 
do  nothing,  now.  You  forget  you  are  hiding 
from  the  reporters.  When  they  have  forgotten 
you  —  which  will  be  very  soon  —  and  when  you 
have  become  more  like  the  people  around  us  in 
speech  and  manner,  you  shall  be  my  assistant, 
perhaps  my  wise  little  adviser  —  we  shall  see." 

"  You  spoke  about  Mr.  Cross,"  she  added. 
"  Do  you  know  you  have  never  told  me  why 
you  came  to  his  house  when  you  ran  away.  Tell 

256 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

me  now  the  whole  story  of  your  acquaintance 
with  him." 

"  Oh,  that  ain't  nothing,"  Tonette  said. 
"  Seems  like  that  was  so  long  ago  and  things 
was  so  different;  it's  just  as  if  I  was  a  child, 
and  's  if  I'd  growed  up  since  I  got  here.  Bryan 
came  mooning  out  where  I  was,  sick  and  miser- 
'ble,  wantin'  to  hunt  grizzlies  with  paw.  Him 
a-huntin'  grizzlies !  Why,  the  bears  would  laugh 
if  they  heard  of  it  and  had  any  fun  in  'em,  which 
grizzlies  ain't.  Anyhow,  he  come,  and  paw  was 
away  with  them  sojers,  and  maw  was  that  mad 
at  me  we  didn't  speak,  all  'cause  I  went  to  Gulch- 
ville  with  paw  and  charmed  a  little  locket  out 
of  him  to  wear  with  my  Sunday  dress  —  which 
maw  didn't  have  no  locket  —  didn't  have  ary  a 
locket  —  how  do  you  starch  and  iron  it  when 
you  want  to  say  '  didn't  have  no  locket '  here 
in  the  East?" 

"  Did  not  have  any,"  Laura  said ;  "  but  do  not 
try  to  change  your  speech  except  as  your  ear 
tells  you.  You  will  soon  speak  as  we  do." 

"  Um,"  said  Tonette,  pursing  up  her  mouth 
as  if  to  kiss  Laura  a  dozen  feet  away,  "  I  do 
like  you,  an'  you're  a-goin'  to  let  me,  ain't  you? 

257 


The  Millionairess 


Well,  so  Bryan  and  me  was  throwed  —  thrown  — 
together,  and  —  oh,  but  I  forgot  the  most  impor- 
tant part  of  all.  You  see,  if  there  ever  was  a 
dude  it  was  Bryan  in  them  —  those  —  days. 
Mysakes!  he  was  a  walking  jewelry  store.  He's 
give  it  all  up  since  he  got  home,  but  at  that  time 
he  was  just  over  from  Germany  and  Paris  and 
Berlin  and  France  and  them  parts.  And  he  had 
diamond  rings  and  gold  chains  and  silver  hair 
brushes  and  solid  silver  things  to  fuss  up  your 
finger  nails  with,  and  scarf-pins  and  scarf-rings 
and  a  solid  silver  penknife  and  a  shoe  horn  't 
must  have  been  worth  a  hundred  dollars,  and 
his  sister's  tintype  sot  in  —  set  in  solid  silver, 
and  silver  all  around  his  kerlone  bottles  and  a 
diamond  stud  —  which  he  said  was  vulgar  and 
always  kep'  hid  under  his  necktie,  or  else  didn't 
wear  it  —  and,  oh,  I  can't  never  begin  even  in 
the  middle  of  the  bee-yutiful  things  he  had  and 
which  he  used  to  leave  scattered  around  his  room 
to  home  —  at  paw's,  I  mean.  Ejven  I  sensed  that 
them  was  things  for  a  woman  more'n  for  a  man. 
Um,  how  I  did  used  to  tiptoe  into  his  room  and 
glue  my  eyes  onto  all  them  things  o'  his! 
"  Well,  now,  Miss  Laura,  I  want  to  make  a. 

258 


The  Millionairess  Hf 

confession.  I'm  wicked.  Oh,  yes,  I  am.  But 
I'm  wicked  outside  where  everybody  sees  it.  I 
ain't  wicked  inside  or  wicked  in  my  home,  and 
all  honey  on  the  outside.  I  couldn't  sleep  if  I 
was  that  away.  I'd  rather  be  bad  and  have 
everybody  know  it  than  let  on  I  was  good  and 
have  me  and  God  know  it  was  a  lie.  So,  anyway, 
when  he  \vas  off  moonin'  I  slipped  into  his  room 
and  I  put  on  his  pants  right  over  my  dress  — 
had  to  turn  'em  up  a  yard  at  the  bottom,  you 
know  —  and  a  shirt  of  his  and  his  vest,  so's  I 
could  wear  his  rings  and  a  scarf-pin  an'  his 
watch  and  chain.  And  there  I  stood  a-looking  at 
myself  in  a  glass  about  as  big's  my  face;  had 
to  stand  it  in  different  places  to  see  different  parts 
of  myself  —  oh,  you  don't  know  what  living's  like 
till  you've  camped  out  with  paw  awhile.  Funny  ? 
I  reckon  a  kitten  with  doll's  shoes  on  its  feet 
don't  feel  no  funnier  than  I  looked.  And  I  heard 
a  laugh  and  I  turned  around  and  there  stood 
Bryan,  rounding  me  up.  Well,  he  laughed  and 
I  laughed.  We  stood  up  and  laughed,  and  then 
we  sat  down  to  it.  After  that  me  and  him  was 
the  best  of  friends  and  spent  every  clay  together, 
round  the  pond  'r  else  out  in  the  woods. 

259 


The  Millionairess 


"He  kep'  wantin'  to  talk  about  God;  don't 
know  what  ailed  him,  but  he  was  all  the  time 
wantin'  to  talk  about  how  we  knew  for  sure  about 
God,  'n'  such  things  as  that.  I  shut  him  up 
'cause  it  makes  me  creepy  —  that  kind  of  talk. 
I  talk  to  God  nights,  Miss  Laura,  and  tell  him 
everything,  but  I'm  scared  to  talk  about  him, 
behind  His  back,  like.  So  I  shut  Bryan  up,  and 
we  was  pardners.  For  four  weeks  steady  I 
made  him  tell  me  about  New  York  and  Chicago 
and  rich  women  and  their  dresses  and  joolry  and 
marble  baths  and  the  theatres.  I  was  set  clean 
crazy  thinking  of  where  all  such  pretty  things 
as  his  must  belong;  and  I  stayed  crazy  —  and 
I'm  crazy  yet.  So  when  I  couldn't  stand  it  no 
longer,  breaking  ice  in  my  washbowl  and  wearing 
the  same  old  cotton  dresses,  and  having  nothing 
but  the  roughest  folks  around  me,  I  lit  out,  and 
here  I  am.  There!  the  ladle's  bended,  and  my 
story's  ended." 

"  Did  you  like  Mr.  Cross  very  much,  Tonette  ? 
No,  no  —  honour  between  friends,"  Laura 
coaxed.  "  He  told  me  he  asked  you  to  marry 
him,  dear  —  why  do  you  make  wry  faces  ?  " 

Tonette  seized  a  knee  in  her  clasped  hands  and 
rocked  to  and  fro  reflectively.  260 


The   Millionairess  H£ 

"  I'm  glad  1  didn't  like  him,"  she  said.  "  I 
mean  in  that  real  serious  way,  'cause  he  talks  's 
much  's  a  woman.  Told  you  that,  did  he?  I 
suppose  he  knows  you  right  well  —  of  course. 
Did  he  tell  you  what  I  had  to  say  about  it  ?  Yes  ? 
Well,  1  reckon  he  would.  I  didn't  like  him  like 
you,  'cause  there's  only  one  of  you  comes  in  a  box. 
You  could  beat  me  and  I'd  kiss  your  hand  like 
a  dog,  Miss  Laura.  That  ain't  how  I  liked  Bryan. 
He's  brave;  I'll  say  that.  I  slipped  and  rolled 
into  the  river  when  it  was  all  rushing  snow-water, 
rippin'  its  way  through  the  rocks.  And  he  run 
along  on  the  bank  and  got  even  with  where  I 
was  in  the  water  and  jumped  in  and  pulled  me 
out.  I  was  stunned  by  hittin'  a  rock,  and  was 
heavy  as  a  deer's  carcase;  and  he  havin'  to  fight 
for  his  own  life,  all  the  time;  but  he  saved  me. 
After  that,  when  I  come  to,  lyin'  in  his  arms  — 
oh,  whatever's  the  use,  Miss  Laura?  It's  all  so 
useless  —  like  a  shot  that  don't  hit  nothin' ;  gone 
quick  and  best  forgot,  'cept  between  me  and  him." 

"  No,  go  on,  please.  I  am  very  much  inter- 
ested." 

"  Well,  after  he  saved  me  and  after  —  some- 
thing else  he  done  —  if  you  must  know,  he  kissed 

261 


The   Millionairess 


me;  there!  After  that,  I  thought  I  maybe  be- 
longed to  him;  he  maybe  liked  me  a  lot,  I 
thought.  So  that  was  why  I  always  reckoned 
if  I  did  come  East  and  he  should  have  kep'  on 
likin'  me,  and  should,  maybe,  ask  me  —  why  then 
it  would  be  my  duty.  You  can  see  how  it  was, 
can't  you  ?  " 

Laura  nodded. 

"  But  when  I  did  come  on,  it  got  in  the  papers, 
and  he  said  my  character  was  gone,  and  his  sister 
would  die,  and  he'd  "be  ruined,  same  as  I  was 
a'ready.  And  then  he  turned  —  and  I'll  give  him 
credit  where  it's  due  —  and  he  says,  '  Never 
mind  me  or  my  sister;  first  thing's  you.'  That's 
where  he  was  brave  again.  Then  he  spoiled  the 
whole  of  it.  'I've  done  this  thing,'  he  says; 
*  I  kissed  you  as  I  didn't  ought  to,'  he  says,  '  and 
you've  followed  me  here  on  account  of  it.  I 
seen  I  was  a  fool,  but  I  done  it,  and  it  turned  your 
head,  and  now  all  I  can  do  is  to  marry  you.  I 
must  pay  for  my  folly,'  says  he,  '  rather  'n  harm 
you  worse.'  Miss  Laura,  that  was  how  he  in- 
sulted me!  He  flung  himself  at  me  like  a  bone 
thrown  to  a  wolf  in  a  cage.  I  was  so  hot  I 
exploded.  '  I  don't  need  savin'  's  bad  's  you  do/ 

262 


The   Millionairess  .      H£ 

I  says.  '  I've  took  care  of  my  character  eighteen 
years  all  right,  and  I  ain't  so  afraid  of  its  spoiling 
on  my  hands  as  you  are  of  yours.  You  kissed 
me  ? '  I  says.  '  You  never.  You  hain't  seen  the 
day  you  darst  kiss  me/  I  says  —  and  God's  got 
to  forgive  me  for  that,  'cause  I  was  only  lyin'  to 
protect  myself.  '  I'd  have  shot  you/  I  says,  '  if 
you'd  even  brushed  me  with  your  face.'  There 
now,  Miss  Laura,  that's  all,  only  I'm  all  hot  again 
over  it.  To  think  of  me  comin'  three  thousand 
miles,  beggin'  rides  most  of  the  way,  to  have  a 
man  tell  me  he'd  throw  himself  away  and  end 
all  his  bright  hopes  by  marrying  me,  'cause  he 
was  afraid  for  my  character.  I've  got  to  go 
in  another  room  and  be  by  myself,  Miss  Laura, 
till  I  can  see  straight  again." 


263 


XX. 

A   GLIMPSE   OF 
THE    UPPER    TEN 

"  Why  dost  them  lure  me  to  this  garish  pleasure, 
This  pomp  of  light  ?  "  —  Goethe, 

Y  AURA  had  another  cousin  than  Archibald 
M  j  Paton,  one  "  Jack "  Lamont,  an  own 
cousin,  who  had  tried  to  do  her  inexpressible 
harm  when  she  was  poor  and  friendless.  By 
his  evil  courses  he  had,  still  earlier,  alienated 
the  regard  of  his  uncle,  to  whom  he  stood  as  near 
in  blood  as  Laura.  Finding  that  by  no  other 
process  could  he  possibly  inherit  this  uncle's 
fortune,  to  squander  as  he  did  his  patrimony, 
he  set  out  to  marry  her,  but  only  when  he  learned 
that  she  was  to  become  the  heir  to  the  Lamont 
estate.  And,  even  then,  the  course  he  chose  for 
carrying  forward  his  despicable  ends  was  the 
method  of  a  scoundrel  deaf  to  conscience  and 
calloused  against  pity.  In  its  proper  place  we 
will  tell  again  to  those  who  have  not  read  it 
elsewhere,  the  story  of  his  villainy.  At  the 

264 


The  Millionairess  HS- 

moment  now  dealt  with,  this  redoubtable  hero 
of  a  hundred  disgraces  and  gallant  par  excel- 
lence of  the  gutter,  was  but  the  shell  of  himself, 
penniless  —  a  wreck  in  body  at  last  and  —  but  it 
is  needless  to  anticipate. 

The  chapter  is  best  opened  with  Laura  in  her 
library  looking  surprised  over  two  letters.  The 
first  was  from  Henrietta  Van  Ness,  asking  "  could 
you  possibly  send  over  a  check  for  two  hundred 
dollars?  I'm  in  an  awful  strait.  Only  for  a  little 
while,  there's  a  dear  little  Miss  Crcesus,  and  you 
shall  have  it  back.  P.S.  I  have  such  news  to  tell 
when  I  see  you."  The  second  was  from  Jack 
Lament,  the  only  being  to  whom  she  felt  un- 
kindly, whose  mere  name  had  only  lately  ceased 
to  make  her  shudder.  It  was  written  shakily, 
hesitatingly,  almost  hopelessly.  "  I  am  very  ill," 
it  ran.  "  Am  ordered  to  go  in  the  country.  I 
suppose  you  hate  me  —  I  know  you  have  good 
cause  —  yet  I  will  never  give  offence  again,  if 
you  will  be  magnanimous.  There  is  nowhere 
else  that  I  can  go.  I  am  so  ill  and  want  to  be 
with  friends,  in  a  home;  though  it  must  be  now 
or  very  likely  not  at  all.  I  may  not  be  alive  a 
little  later." 

265 


The   Millionairess 


Very  long  Laura  pondered  those  two  missives, 
as  a  very  much  older  girl  might  weigh  two  pro- 
posals of  marriage  which  she  fancied  might  be 
the  last  she  would  receive. 

"  I  do  not  see  how  Miss  Van  Ness  can  stoop 
to  borrow  money,"  she  thought,  "  and  the  word- 
ing of  her  note  is  very  —  well,  it  certainly  reveals 
no  qualms.  That  must  be  her  way  of  trying  to 
hide  her  sensitiveness." 

"  Tonette,"  she  called  from  the  foot  of  the 
staircase.  "Don't  you  feel  like  a  sleigh-ride? 
There's  snow  enough  and  I've  heard  some  sleighs 
go  by.  Ask  my  mother  if  she  wouldn't  like  to 
come,  too.  I'm  going  to  the  bank  and  telegraph 
office.  Your  hat  and  jacket  ?  They're  down  here 
again,  you  untidy  girl."  Then,  as  she  waited, 
she  communed  -with  herself  again  :  "  I  wonder 
if  he  is  really  ill.  He  merely  asks  for  a  room 
and  a  bed  in  a  house  that  was  once  a  home  to 
him.  If  he  is  ill,  I  simply  cannot  refuse  him." 

At  the  bank  she  inquired  whether  the  Van 
Nesses  kept  an  account  there,  and  was  told  that 
they  did  not.  Nevertheless,  she  wrote  out  a 
check  for  two  hundred  dollars,  and,  enclosing  it 
with  a  note,  drove  with  it  to  the  telegraph  office. 

266 


The   Millionairess  H£ 

There  she  found  a  messenger  by  whom  to  send 
it  to  Miss  Van  Ness,  and  then  she  telegraphed  to 
her  lawyers  in  the  city :  "  Please  find  out  to-day, 
if  possible,  whether  John  Lament  ill.  This  very 
urgent." 

"  Now,  Tonette,"  she  said,  "  we  have  tried  to 
do  a  good  turn  to  two  persons,  and  yet,  instead 
of  being  happier,  we  are,  at  least  I  am,  full  of 
doubt  whether  I  have  done  right  in  either  case. 
It's  funny;  if  I  could  do  so  I  would  not  alter 
what  I've  done,  yet  I  can't  shake  off  the  fear  that 
I've  made  a  mistake  in  each  case." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about," 
Tonette  made  answer. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  do,  my  dear,"  Laura  insisted ; 
"  you  know  that  I  am  saying  that  if  a  woman  has 
no  man  to  rule  her  she  gets  along  with  impulse 
in  his  place.  What  you  don't  know  —  and  I 
don't  say  I'm  any  wiser  —  is  which  is  the 
better  master." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  do,"  came  from  Tonette  in 
mockery  of  Laura's  tone  and  words,  "  'n'  I  know 
too,  —  or  rather  Nature  knows  and  don't  give  us 
a  chance  to  argify  —  argi  —  now,  there's  a  word 
I  know's  pure  Montana.  Argue,  eh?  Sounds 

267 


The  Millionairess 


short,  that  does.  Most  words  here  in  the  East 
sells  by  the  yard,  and  that  one  ain't  more  than 
an  inch,  is  it?  " 

"  I  can't  imagine  a  man  with  the  nerve  to 
ask  to  be  your  husband,"  she  said,  after  a  pause. 
"  And,  then  again,  I  can't  imagine  a  man  seein' 
you  an'  not  askin',  neither." 

Laura's  mother  plucked  Tonette's  sleeve  and 
bent  over  toward  her. 

"  Sh-h-h,"  she  whispered.  "  Has  some  one 
asked  her  ?  " 

Tonette  shook  her  head  vigorously,  with  some- 
thing of  scorn  for  whoever  might  exhibit  such 
presumption. 

"  My  daughter's  set  against  a  formal  wedding," 
said  the  old  lady.  "  Do  try  to  convince  her  that 
it  is  the  only  proper  way.  I  know.  Mine  was  a 
private  marriage.  I  never  want  to  hear  of  an- 
other. My  child,  why  won't  you  take  mother's 
word  for  it  —  "  and  so  the  inevitable  came,  and 
was  not  done  with  till  all  three  ladies  were  back 
at  the  Clock  House  door. 

More  than  a  fortnight  passed  before  Jack  La- 
mont  came  to  Powellton.  Laura  wrote  him  an 
invitation  such  as  not  every  man's  pride  v:ould 

268 


The  Millionairess 


permit  him  to  accept,  for  she  laid  down  condi- 
tions :  that  he  had  yet  to  prove  his  right  to  for- 
giveness, and  that  if  the  visit  came  to  be  regretted 
on  either  side  he  would  promise  to  end  it 
summarily. 

But  much  that  was  exciting  and  of  great 
importance  to  Laura  took  place  before  his  visit. 
The  "  such  news  "  to  which  Henrietta  Van  Ness 
referred  in  her  note  was  that  she  had  obtained  for 
her  an  invitation  to  a  very  grand  wedding  at 
Rhinebeck,  to  take  place  in  a  few  days.  The 
names  of  the  contracting  parties  and  the  guests, 
embracing  many  of  the  leaders  of  fashion  in  New 
York,  whetted  in  her  a  keen  longing  to  witness 
the  affair  and  the  company,  so  that  without  hesi- 
tation she  promised  to  go;  without  hesitation, 
I  say,  but  of  course  the  usual  difficulty  of  not 
having  "  a  single  thing  to  wear  "  intervened,  and 
was  overcome  at  great  expense  and  trouble. 

The  wedding  came,  as  all  things  in  the  future 
have  their  way  of  doing,  and  was  very  brilliant 
and  exclusive;  quite  beyond  any  country  wed- 
ding in  recent  history.  At  the  reception  at  the 
bride's  house  Laura  for  the  first  time  mingled 
shoulder  to  shoulder  and  face  to  face  with  a 

269 


The  Millionairess 


few  of  the  famous  "  Four  Hundred  "  conservers 
of  New  York's  pretensions  as  a  capital  of  Fashion. 
She  saw  these  notables,  too,  in  the  way  that  is 
most  becoming  to  them,  through  an  opalescent 
girlish  haze  which  rendered  them  all  different 
from  the  rest  of  us  in  a  score  of  ways  that  were 
to  their  advantage.  She  was  introduced  to 
several,  and  found  them  "  gracious  "  and  "  so 
easy  in  their  manners  "  —  qualities  which  one 
hears  attributed  to  the  same  class  wherever  one 
travels,  though  why  those  whose  position  is  as- 
sured and  who  have  the  means  to  ensure  their 
comfort  should  ever  be  anything  but  easy  and 
gracious  no  one  anywhere  ventures  to  explain. 
In  particular  she  met  Courtlandt  Beekman  —  the 
hope  of  seeing  whom  had  outweighed  all  com- 
punctions when  she  was  weighing  the  argu- 
ments for  and  against  intruding  in  that  brilliant 
society.  She  was  a  trifle  self-conscious  in  his  pres- 
ence, for  never  had  any  man  impressed  her  and 
filled  her  thoughts  as  he  had  done.  When  his 
eyes  met  hers  she  felt  as  if  his  were  charged  with 
Rontgen  rays  and  were  looking  straight  through 
her.  It  did  not  seem  possible  that  she  could 
interest  a  man  so  travelled  and  distinguished, 

270 


The  Millionairess  Hf 

and  yet  there  they  were:  she  prattling  volubly, 
he  spurring  her  with  questions  and  comment  — 
and,  mercy  on  her!  everybody  remarking  them. 
He  drifted  away  in  time,  with  a  hearty  word  at 
parting.  He  was  so  used  to  touching  and  going 
like  that,  she  thought,  with  his  real  feelings  left 
at  home,  perhaps.  Would  she  ever  be  "  fash- 
ionable "  to  that  degree,  to  the  extent  of  hiding 
her  feelings  ?  She  would  rather  not,  she  reflected, 
as  she  saw  his  broad  straight  back  and  shoul- 
ders looming  over  two  ladies,  and  tried  to  con- 
vince herself  that  in  the  nature  of  the  circum- 
stances lay  the  probability  that  she  would  never 
realise  his  prophecy  that  he  should  know  her 
better  than  he  had  ever  known  any  woman. 
Others  took  his  place  in  turn  and  made  them- 
selves agreeable,  but  through  their  dull  voices 
she  heard  the  echo  of  the  sterling  ring  of  his  — 
a  voice  rich  with  honesty  like  his  face.  She  felt 
as  must  a  valley  among  the  hills  when  the  sun 
droops  and  sends  chill  shadows  where  its  beams 
had  been.  The  high  light  and  the  warmth  had 
gone  from  the  scene,  and  she,  too,  would  be 
satisfied  to  leave  it.  But,  among  the  others  came 
Henrietta  and  Lily  Van  Ness,  both  a-tremble 

271 


The  Millionairess 


with  a  subject  of  great  importance  or  pretending 
to  be  so,  for  one  was  never  sure  about  them  in 
such  a  matter. 

If  the  snow  lasted,  Henrietta  said,  she  and 
her  friends  were  going  to  get  up  a  grand  sleigh- 
ing party,  to  be  followed  by  a  dinner  in  honour  of 
the  Russian  minister,  "  who  was  the  dearest  old 
bear  alive,  and  a  lot  of  the  nicest  people  would 
come  —  and  oh,  la,  la  !  "  Words  failed  of  coher- 
ence, and  gave  place  to  a  hash  of  superlatives, 
supported  by  wriggles  and  translated  by  panto- 
mimic gestures  and  gasps.  Laura  caught  the 
spirit  of  the  incident  and,  in  her  sympathy,  "  oh- 
my'd  "  with  the  sisters. 

"  But,"  and  here  was  evidently  a  great  obstacle 
—  nothing  short  of  an  iceberg  in  the  way,  to  judge 
by  the  freezing  tone  of  that  "  but."  "  But,"  said 
Henrietta,  "  though  it  means  everything  to 
whoever  does  the  honours  —  puts  you  in  the  swim 
and  makes  you  the  vogue,  don't  you  know  — 
I'm  downright  ashamed  to  dine  them  at  our  rotten 
old  barracks,  and,  as  for  sleeping  them  there  — 
people  used  to  every  comfort  and  luxury,  don't 
you  know  —  well,  the  day  was,  but  isn't  —  with 
us.  That's  frank,  don't  you  know?  " 

272 


The   Millionairess  H£ 

"  Oh,  Henrietta,  that'll  do  for  the  curtain 
raiser,"  Lily  interrupted ;  "  now,  for  heaven's 
sake,  say  what  you  are  coming  to.  She  wants  to 
know,  you  see,  Miss  Lamont,  if  she  can  give  the 
dinner  at  your  house  and  she  can  swim  through 
in  that  way  on  the  tail  of  your  frock.  For  my 
part,  I  don't  see  why  it  wouldn't  be  all  right, 
if  you're  agreeable." 

"  I  mean  it's  often  done,  you  know,"  Henri- 
etta said;  "when  one's  house  is  too  small  or 
one  is  in  a  flat  or  a  hotel,  why,  in  the  city  one 
takes  a  regular  hall,  but  in  the  country  one  looks 
about  for  a  friend  with  a  house,  doesn't  one  ?  " 

Laura  looked  troubled  and  in  need  of  a 
"modern  instance,"  as  the  poet  has  said. 

Foolish  girl!  to  have  doubt  was  well,  but 
to  have  doubt  of  the  wrong  thing  was  not  so 
well.  Lend  your  house  every  day.  What  harm? 
But  be  sure  you  lend  it  to  the  right  persons, 
always. 

Modern  instances  a-plenty  were  cited  to 
quell  her  misplaced  anxiety.  Still  she  appeared 
uneasy.  Then  men  were  dragooned  to  where  she 
stood  and  put  through  their  paces.  Wasn't  it 
quite  proper  —  really  quite  the  thing  —  to  give  a 

2/3 


The  Millionairess 


party  and  let  a  friend  invite  the  people  when 
there  was  a  good  reason  —  like  living  in  a  flat 
or  a  hotel  or  being  a  newcomer  in  the  place,  or 
whatever  ?  "  Oh,  quite,  we  assure  you.  Really, 
it  would  be  jolly,  don't  you  know?  We'll  all  go 
in  for  it,"  said  the  men. 

Thus  Laura  was  convinced,  and  not  very  reluc- 
tantly, for  were  not  these  people  in  the  same 
set  with  Courtlandt  Beekman?  That  was  one 
reason  that  she  liked  that  afternoon's  taste  of 
the  Upper  Ten  —  as  what  woman  would  not  who 
knows  that  to  be  in  and  of  them  is  to  be  on  the 
crest  of  things  worldly,  hall-marked,  a  legal  (that 
is  to  say,  a  social)  tender  everywhere. 

On  the  cars  homeward  bound  she  somehow 
found  herself  beside  a  gentleman  who  had  been 
introduced  to  her  at  the  reception  and  had  paid 
her  only  slight  attention,  yet  who  now  evinced 
an  anxiety  to  make  himself  most  agreeable. 

"  You  don't  know  Harry  Kimball  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  I'm  a  great  chum  of  Harry's,  in  fact,  of  all 
the  —  er  —  the  Catamarans." 

"  And  who  are  the  Catamarans  ?  "  she  inquired, 
not  that  she  cared  to  know  so  much  as  that  she 
desired  to  be  polite. 

"  Who  are  the  —  oh,  come  ;  who  are  the  Sand- 

274 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

wich  Islanders,  you  might  as  well  ask  —  or  the 
Monarchs  of  Europe,"  her  companion  replied. 
"  Don't  you  know,  really  ?  I  say !  the  Cata- 
marans wouldn't  feel  complimented.  Well,  Harry 
is  one,  and  I  —  well,  I  ain't  exactly  one  —  but  I 
know  them  on  the  '  side,'  as  we  say.  Oh,  it's 
nothing  but  a  by-word,  —  one  of  those  things 
which  catch  on  and  stick  like  a  burr,  and  won't 
be  rubbed  off.  Leonard  Woodlawn,  who  wasn't 
always  so  witty,  got  it  off  about  one  wing  of 
New  York  society,  and  it  has  been  passed  along 
ever  since,  sticking  here  and  there,  till  now  it  has 
stuck  to  this  newest  lot.  It  isn't  altogether  nice 
-  you  mustn't  mind,  you  know,  because  you 
asked  me.  '  They're  Catamarans/  said  Leonard, 
'  because  they  are  very  fast,  carry  a  lot  of  sail, 
get  along  with  very  little  wind  and  nothing  else, 
sail  in  couples  that  are  fixed  as  far  apart  as  pos- 
sible, and  generally  finish  up  with  a  header.' ' 

She  comprehended  the  phrase  about  their  being 
very  fast,  but,  in  general,  the  definition  was  so 
much  Greek  to  her.  It  were  well  if  she  were 
never  to  know  the  Catamarans  any  better  than  she 
understood  their  description.  It  was  a  case 
where  ignorance  was  bliss  and  knowledge  almost 
a  catastrophe. 

275 


XXI. 

THE  FRINGE   OF  SOCIETY 

"  '  A  happy  day  indeed  ! '  I  cried  ; 
'  But  tell  me,  which  may  be  the  bride?  ' 
The  bumpkin  answered  with  a  stare  — 
'  Lord,  sir  !     I  neither  know  nor  care." "  —  Goethe. 

rROUBLED  and  pestered  about  the  evils 
of  pleasure  life,  Laura  foresaw  that  a 
maidenly  desire  to  "  happen "  in  the  orbit  of 
the  man  she  most  admired  was  likely  to  change 
her  course  from  amid  people  of  occasional  gaiety 
after  work,  to  a  circle  of  perpetual  pleasure 
seekers.  As  long  as  she  was  conscious  of  no  evil 
she  would  persist  in  this  drifting,  but  she  was 
young,  unsophisticated,  and  very  conscientious; 
therefore  grey  Doubt  came  and  perched  upon  her 
bed  canopy,  her  carriage  front,  her  dining-table ; 
the  hideous  bird  would  never  away.  She  had 
the  greatest  doubts  about  the  Van  Ness  sisters, 
and  about  the  coming  party;  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  almost  every  day  she  read  the  name  of 
Courtlandt  Beekman  in  the  newspapers;  of  his 

276 


The   Millionairess  H5- 

presence  at  the  opera,  of  his  leading  a  cotillion,  of 
his  participation  in  whatever  was  found  in  high 
life ;  and  every  time  she  read  his  name  her  desire 
to  meet  him  drove  away  her  doubts  about  her 
present  course. 

York  Stone,  her  mother,  Tonette  —  and  her 
bank  account,  perhaps  —  were  almost  the  only 
possessions  in  which  she  found  unvarying  com- 
fort. She  came  back  from  the  wedding  with  a 
heavier  dependence  on  York  Stone.  It  was 
natural.  He  was  the  only  one  of  his  entire  sex 
who  had  aroused  hope  of  help,  and  had  not  more 
or  less  disappointed  her.  Perhaps  now  he  would 
not  be  so  formal  with  her  —  perhaps  he  would 
show  an  interest  in  matters  more  personal  than 
her  charities.  With  his  counsel,  she  could  defy 
grey  Doubt.  She  did  not  know  why  she  expected 
him  to  change  his  behaviour.  Certainly,  she 
would  never  again  throw  herself  at  him  with 
confidences  about  her  private  affairs  after  his 
pointed  refusals  to  interest  himself  in  them.  But 
if  he  would  not  extend  the  needed  hand,  Heaven 
knew  there  seemed  no  man  who  would. 

When  she  next  met  him  he  was  overwhelmed 
with  the  work  of  improving  the  village  and  the 

277 


The  Millionairess 


condition  of  its  people.  For  the  present,  at  all 
events,  it  was  idle  to  expect  him  to  assume  a  new 
relationship,  yet  when,  in  all  her  life,  was  it 
likely  that  she  would  need  his  counsel  more  than 
at  this  moment?  There  was  nothing  better  than 
to  confide  in  her  mother  and  Tonette  —  for  the 
mere  relief  of  crystallising  her  thoughts  and 
apprehensions. 

"  Perhaps  a  certain  mysterious  knight  will  be 
at  the  party  —  who  knows,  eh,  Laura  ?  "  her 
doting  mother  ventured. 

"  Don't  talk  to  me  about  those  Van  Ness 
sisters,"  Tonette  exclaimed  ;  "  if  they  ain't  bad 
medicine  there  ain't  no  such  a  thing.  I'll  bet 
if  I  hit  that  Henrietta  on  her  cheek  or  anywheres 
with  a  stone,  she'd  strike  fire.  I'd  like  to  try  it, 
I  would.  And  as  for  her  sister  —  well,  all  I 
can  say  is,  that  even  the  angels  must  hate  her." 

Henrietta  came  several  times  to  the  Clock 
House,  and  proved  herself  a  past  mistress  at 
arranging  for  such  a  party  as  this  was  to  be.  The 
brands  of  champagne  which  were  most  certain 
to  give  satisfaction,  the  kind  and  quantity  of 
whiskey  to  be  offered  in  the  library,  with  cigars 
and  cigarettes  and  cocktail  ingredients;  the 

278 


The   Millionairess  ^ 

number  of  packs  of  cards  —  for  the  men  always 
played  "  a  little  "  after  a  party ;  the  band,  which 
if  not  the  Hungarian  must  at  least  be  in  Hun- 
garian dress;  the  menu  to  be  left  to  the  chef 
of  a  friend  who  would  lend  him  for  that  night; 
these  were  the  things  Miss  Van  Ness  considered 
most  important,  and  which  she  lifted,  unmindful 
of  their  weight,  from  Laura's  shoulders. 

When  it  came  to  arranging  the  putting  up  of 
certain  of  the  visitors  for  the  night,  Henrietta 
allotted  a  Mrs.  Williger,  among  others,  to  Laura's 
house.  This  young  matron's  behaviour  at  the 
recent  wedding  in  Rhinebeck  had  attracted 
Laura's  attention,  and  she  had  asked  Lily  Van 
Ness  about  her. 

"Oh,"  Lily  said,  "that's  a  Mrs.  Williger  - 
and  that's  Mr.  Bewick  who's  with  her.    His  wife 
is  an  invalid  and  her  husband's  an  old  fool  — 
so  there  you  are." 

"  I'm  sorry  Mrs.  Williger  is  to  come,"  Laura 
said  to  Henrietta.  "  I  did  not  like  what  I  saw 
of  her  at  the  wedding." 

"  But  you  must  remember  that  she  was  among 
old  friends  there,"  Henrietta  replied;  "she'd  be 


279 


The  Millionairess 


more  what-do-you-call-it  here.  Oh,  much  more, 
I  assure  you;  circumspect,  I  mean,  you  know." 

"  Well,  I'd  rather  it  would  be  only  men  who 
stop  here  on  that  night,"  Laura  replied  in  a  tone 
that  was  final. 

In  the  rearrangement  this  brought  about  she 
found  that  one  of  her  rooms  was  allotted  to 
Courtlandt  Beekman. 

"Oh,  he's  coming,  is  he?"  Laura  asked,  as 
if  merely  to  say  something. 

"  Yes.  He  wants  to  meet  the  Russian  minister. 
Mr.  Beekman's  not  to  my  taste,  I  may  as  well 
tell  you.  He's  all  very  well  for  polo  and  hunting 
and  splurging  —  with  his  yacht  and  drag  — 
when  a  splurge  is  what  you're  in  for  —  he's 
awfully  rich,  you  know;  but  he's  too  ramroddy; 
leans  over  backwards,  don't  you  know?  Very 
good  men  never  seem  quite  human  to  me." 

"  But  where  is  the  Russian  minister  going  to 
sleep?  "  Laura  asked. 

"Oh,  he?  Why  —  er  —  "  Henrietta  knew 
that  the  minister  was  not  able  to  come,  but  to 
publish  the  fact  would  be  to  raise  bothersome 
questions  as  to  the  advisability  of  going  ahead 
with  the  party,  which,  from  the  first,  had  been 

280 


The  Millionairess  £fc 

planned  solely  for  her  own  aggrandisement. 
"  Why,  where  is  he  to  go  ?  Oh,  yes,  Harry 
Kimball  is  going  to  put  him  up." 

Laura  scented  no  lie  in  this,  but  in  the  fulness 
of  time  —  even  before  the  night  of  the  party  — 
she  was  aghast  at  the  appearances  of  double-deal- 
ing on  Henrietta's  part  which  came  up.  For 
instance,  though  Laura  had  been  led  to  believe 
she  was  to  be  under  no  other  expenses  than  for 
the  bare  dinner,  the  wines,  liquors,  cigars,  play- 
ing cards,  ivory  counters  or  chips,  and  half  a 
dozen  other  purchases  were  all  sent  to  her  with 
bills  for  immediate  collection.  At  eight  o'clock 
on  the  fateful  night,  Laura  having  stayed  in 
from  the  sleigh-ride  to  supervise  the  final  prepa- 
rations, the  leader  of  the  small  orchestra  which 
had  been  engaged,  presented  a  bill  for  payment  in 
advance,  and  demanded  instant  settlement.  The 
money  consideration  was  trifling  compared  to 
the  mortification  Laura  felt  at  having  been  so 
coarsely  deceived.  The  shame  that  she  bore  vica- 
riously for  the  Van  Ness  sisters  actually  burned 
her  cheeks.. 

Poor  tender  cheeks!  If  they  took  flame  so 
early  and  so  easily,  what  was  likely  to  result 
when  the  greater  trials  came?  281 


The  Millionairess 


It  was  after  nine  o'clock  when  the  sleigh-loads 
of  fair  faces  above  the  mounds  of  fur  and  of  great- 
coated  gallants  with  a  politeness  that  missed  no 
chance  to  serve  a  woman,  were  emptied  upon  the 
Clock  House  porch.  In  ten  minutes  the  spacious 
rooms  on  the  ground  floor  and  the  stairs  and  dress- 
ing-rooms above  were  gay  with  bright  colours  and 
noisy  with  unfettered  mirth.  Twenty  couples  had 
come,  with  no  Russian  minister  at  their  head,  and 
the  high  pressure  of  the  night's  pleasure  seemed 
reached  at  once.  Never  could  less  constraint  have 
been  shown  by  persons  so  new  to  their  surround- 
ings. Scarcely  in  a  hotel  could  even  such  a  party 
—  so  confident  of  the  hospitality  at  their  call  — 
have  made  themselves  thus  instantly  and  thor- 
oughly at  home.  Before  the  servants  could  grasp 
the  situation,  they  found  themselves  trying  to 
obey  more  commands  than  twice  their  number 
could  have  executed  satisfactorily.  In  the  wake 
of  the  Misses  Van  Ness  the  men  found  the  library 
where  those  accomplished  women  mixed  cocktails 
with  a  skill  and  knowledge  beyond  praise.  Some 
of  these  went  into  the  drawing-room  to  moisten 
feminine  lips,  cigarettes  glowed  in  the  library  and 
halls,  decorous  laughter  rolled  to  and  fro.  The 

282 


The  Millionairess 


old  house  was  indeed  in  new  hands,  and  yet  it 
had  come  about  as  naturally  as  the  capture  of 
Holland  by  the  Dutch.  It  did  not  appear  to 
the  company  of  bright  and  showy  women  and 
elegant,  easy-mannered  gallants  as  if  an  inhar- 
monious chord  could  jar  their  content.  Yet  there 
was  one  among  them  who  moved  about  helplessly 
at  first,  then  distractedly  ;  then  stood  ashamed  and 
trembling  with  indignation. 

As  the  reader  surmises,  this  was  the  young 
proprietress  of  the  mansion. 

Many  wondered  with  a  propriety-chilled  curios- 
ity who  she  was  and  what  she  was  doing  there. 
Some  of  them,  perhaps,  imagined  that  she  had 
come  to  sing  or  play.  She  first  appeared  hovering 
about  the  drawing-room  door,  hesitating,  wonder- 
ing whether  she  ought  to  welcome  the  guests. 
She  discovered  that  no  one  afforded  her  a  chance  ; 
that  all  stared  at  and  then  ignored  her.  Next 
she  volunteered  information  to  a  lady  who  was 
inquiring  the  way  to  the  dressing-room,  and  never 
will  she  forget  the  freezing  look  she  got.  After 
that,  she  resolved  to  depend  upon  some  other 
means  than  her  own  for  gaining  a  footing  of  ease 
with  her  guests  —  some  other  means  which  never 

283 


The  Millionairess 


materialised.  Where  all  were  supposed  to  be  old 
friends  and  where  so  many  considered  the  Misses 
Van  Ness  their  hostesses,  no  one  wasted  a  second 
thought  upon  her.  In  the  course  of  fifteen  min- 
utes, which  Laura  afterward  described  as  "  an 
age,"  Henrietta  came  down  from  the  upper  floor 
and  flew  at  her  and  bestowed  a  pecking,  bird-like 
kiss  upon  her,  saying  with  the  ring  of  hard  metal 
which  distinguished  her  voice  :  "  Splendid  !  splen- 
did, you  dear  thing!  You've  managed  it  all  so 
well  —  everybody's  delighted."  At  that  she  was 
for  winging  away  again,  but  Laura  plucked  her 
sleeve  to  detain  her. 

"I  don't  know  what  to  do,"  she  said.  "I 
don't  know  any  one." 

"  Why,  yes,  you  do,  dear,"  Henrietta  replied. 
"  There's  Lily  and  Miss  Martin  and  Macy  Folger. 
Macy,  you  remember  Miss  Lamont,  whom  you 
met  at  Rhinebeck  ?  " 

"  Oh.  really,"  that  young  man  stuttered,  "  quite 
well,  of  course.  Awful  bedlam,  isn't  it?  Hate 
this  sort  of  thing,  till  it  gets  on  the  track  and 
runs  smoothly,  don't  you?  Nice  old  house  this 
of  Miss  Van  Ness's,  I  must  say.  Can  I  get 
you  a  cocktail,  or  anything  ?  " 

284 


The   Millionairess  %& 

Then  he  went  away,  and  Miss  Lily  came  merely 
to  say  that  Laura  must  be  having  a  stupid  time, 
but  after  the  champagne  had  gone  around  a  few 
times  at  dinner  —  "  then's  when  things  get  comfy, 
don't  they  ?  " 

Courtlandt  Beekman  was  late  in  arriving.  He 
knew  every  man  and  woman  in  the  room,  though 
his  standing  among  them  was  formal,  judging 
by  the  manner  in  which  he  greeted  them  as  he 
passed  from  one  to  the  other.  A  man  who  is 
at  home  in  the  wilderness  sees  more  of  what  goes 
on  around  him,  without  appearing  to  look,  than 
others  can  see  by  staring,  therefore  by  the  time 
he  had  reached  Laura's  side  he  comprehended  her 
situation  as  well  as  if  he  had  watched  her  for 
half  an  hour. 

"  You  came  to  see  the  Russian  minister,"  she 
said ;  "  but  he  is  not  to  be  here.  He  could  not 
leave  his  duties  in  Washington." 

"  I  am  not  sure  he  ever  thought  of  coming," 
Beekman  replied.  "  I  did  not  come  on  his  ac- 
count, Miss  Lamont.  You  could  not  easily  guess 
why  I  did  come  —  especially  since  parties  like 
this  are  quite  out  of  my  line,  and  I  am  hurrying 
-  rather,  I  was  hurrying  —  off  upon  a  two  years' 
tour  of  Central  Asia."  285 


The  Millionairess 


"You  are  really  going?"  she  inquired  —  and 
noticed  a  slight  sinking  of  her  heart  as  she  awaited 
his  reply. 

"  I  did  expect  to  start  at  once,"  said  he;  "  but 
now  I'm  not  certain." 

He  took  Laura  in  to  dinner,  and  sat  next  to 
her  at  table.  Slowly  he  calmed  her  by  his  self- 
command  that  was  so  strong  as  to  become  a 
command  of  herself  as  well.  Steadily,  too,  he 
raised  her  spirits  with  his  flow  of  cheerful, 
bright  speech. 

"  I  was  so  uncomfortable,"  she  confided  to 
him.  "  I  have  been  introduced  to  no  one." 

"  Perhaps  all  do  not  understand  that  you  are 
the  hostess,"  he  suggested.  "  As  a  guest,  you 
would  not  be  introduced.  It  is  a  monarchical 
trick  which  has  struck  root  in  this  cranny  of  the 
republic  —  one  of  our  imitations  of  the  English. 
You  are  supposed  to  know  every  one;  if  not, 
there  is  thought  to  be  a  chance  that  the  others 
might  not  care  to  know  you.  In  this  case  this 
has  its  compensations,  because,  if  you  will  excuse 
what  is  a  rude  thing  to  say,  there  is  a  strong 
chance  that  you  are  better  off  for  not  knowing 
the  others." 

286 


XXII. 

THE  SKELETON 
AT    THE    FEAST 

"  They  dealt  out  meat  and  they  dealt  out  wine." —  Old  Norse  Song. 

rHE  dinner,  which  I  am  not  going  to 
describe,  lagged  a  little  at  first,  as  doubt- 
less Lily  Van  Ness  would  say  might  be  ex- 
pected, "  until  the  wine  went  around  a  few 
times."  During  the  repast,  her  sister  produced 
from  her  pocket  a  half-sheet  of  note  paper,  much 
written  on  and  rumpled,  and  conveying  it  deftly 
around  the  corner  of  the  table  to  Mrs.  Williger, 
whispered  to  her  briefly.  Mrs.  Williger  beamed 
with  pleasure,  consulted  the  paper  surreptitiously 
for  a  moment,  and  beamed  the  more.  Then  she 
handed  it  to  Mr.  Bewick  by  her  side  and  com- 
manded him,  aloud,  "  Read  it  and  pass  it  along 
—  only  to  the  men."  The  men  got  it  by  turns, 
and  each  laughed  aloud,  or  smothered  a  laugh  as 
he  passed  it  on,  the  women  affecting  no  interest  in 
it,  except  as  it  came  the  turn  of  each  to  hand  it 

287 


The  Millionairess 


to  her  escort.  One  or  two  of  the  women  turned 
scarlet,  but  nearly  all  were  case-hardened  against 
blushing.  When  it  reached  Courtlandt  Beekman, 
he  did  not  detain  it. 

"  Mr.  Beekman  hasn't  read  it,"  purred  the 
younger  Miss  Van  Ness. 

"  I  haven't  my  glasses  with  me,"  said  he. 

"  He'd  know  it,  anyway,"  said  Henrietta,  with 
a  touch  of  malice.  "  Who  knows  but  he  wrote 
it?  These  quiet  men  are  all  so  deep." 

Beekman  laughed,  and,  raising  his  glass,  re- 
plied, "  Your  very  good  health,  Miss  Van  Ness." 
Thus  he  ended  that  incident. 

One  other  episode  was  a  story  by  one  of  the 
ladies,  for  where  all  knew  one  another  so  well, 
the  women  exhibited  the  confidence  and  practice 
which  raconteurs  value. 

"  I  was  telling  about  the  canny  Scotchman  at 
the  club  at  St.  Andrews,"  said  the  fair  story- 
teller ;  "  one  we  met  there  last  summer.  He 
told  Myndert  one  day  that  he  believed  the 
awful  '  heads  '  men  get  in  the  mornings,  after 
nights  like  this,  you  know,  are  caused  by  tobacco, 
and  not  by  spirits.  '  Sperrets,  mon,'  he  said, 
*  have  the  faculty  —  in  a  milder  degree  d'ye  se« 

288 


The  Millionairess 


—  of  absorrbing  essences  and  vapours,  as  ye  well 
ken.  'Tis  in  that  way  parfumerry's  mannifac- 
thered.'  Well,  to  drop  the  Scotch,  he  got  Myndert 
to  test  this  deep  scientific  question  —  one  night's 
bout  without  cigars  or  pipes  and  the  next  night 
with  them.  Myndert's  always  wanting  to  know 
everything  new,  and  he  did  have  two  awful  nights. 
They  each  finished  a  bottle  the  first  night,  and, 
sure  enough,  though  it  was  the  best  liqueur 
whiskey,  Myndert  came  down  to  breakfast  as 
good-natured  as  a  lamb.  He  said  he  was  as  right 
as  rain.  Next  night,  he  and  the  Scotchman 
drank  only  a  little  over  a  bottle  between  them,  but 
smoked  a  lot,  and  in  the  morning  after  that,  on 
my  word,  Myndert  was  an  awful  wreck;  in  the 
clutches  of  R.  E.  Morse,  if  ever  a  man  was." 

Nobody  laughed  but  all  waited,  while  the  fair 
raconteur  returned  to  her  exercise  with  her  knife 
and  fork,  in  wonderment  at  the  silence. 

"  Well,  what's  the  point  ?  Don't  leave  us  sus- 
pended like  that,  Miss  Daniels,"  some  one  called 
to  her. 

"Oh,  I  didn't  tell  you,  did  I?"  she  said. 
"  Why,  the  point  is  that  next  day  Myndert  heard 
the  Scotchman  proposing  the  same  experiment 

289 


The  Millionairess 


to  another  man.  And  it  turned  out  that  he  was 
always  getting  some  one  to  try  the  thing,  so 
as  to  make  sure  of  a  rousing  time  every  night 
of  his  life." 

The  climax  was  well  received,  and  the  story 
may  stand  as  an  example  of  what  the  company 
considered  amusing. 

Hardly  had  the  laughter  subsided  when  one 
of  the  men  attracted  general  attention  by  ex- 
claiming: "You  don't  say?  My  word!  Well, 
that  is  a  sensation  !  " 

"What  is  it?  Let  us  all  in,  please!  What's 
the  news  ?  "  several  voices  called. 

"  Why,"  the  first  speaker  replied,  "  Bewick's 
been  telling  Margie  Barclay  that  Clyde  and 
Laura  Stuyvesant  and  Dick  and  Mildred  Mow- 
bray  are  to  get  divorces  and  change  partners. 
Clyde  Stuyvesant  is  to  marry  Mildred  Mowbray 
and  Dick  Mowbray  is  to  marry  Laura  Stuyvesant. 
That  is  news,  isn't  it?  Well,  I  will  say  it's  only 
decent  ot  them,  anyway." 

"  Oh,  we  cling  to  civilised  ways,"  Miss  Daniels 
returned.  "  We  still  go  through  the  form  of 
marriage." 

"  Another  double  couple  arranging  to  retire 

290 


The  Millionairess  $& 

for  three  years,  to  purge  themselves  for  merely 
carrying  on  a  natural  course  on  the  hilltops,  in- 
stead of  hiding  their  ways  under  a  bushel  bas- 
ket," one  of  the  men  commented. 

"  Three  years !  "  a  lady  exclaimed.  "  How 
very  out  of  date  you  are.  The  sentence  has  not 
been  so  long  since  'way  back  when  the  Van  Rips 
defied  Mrs.  Grundy.  Nowadays,  a  year  puts 
things  straight." 

"  We  are  the  true  Latter  Day  Saints,"  Mr. 
Bewick  soliloquised.  "  But  I  don't  know ;  the 
Mormons  achieve  the  same  ends  in  better  ways. 
They  legalise  and  sanctify  the  very  things  for 
which  we  are  damned  by  a  moss-grown  public 
opinion." 

"  Pshaw !  "  Miss  Daniels  exclaimed,  "  the 
Mormons  have  moral  laws  of  some  sort,  how- 
ever elastic,  but  we,  very  properly,  consider  our- 
selves above  all  laws.  The  moral  law  is  for  the 
poor  and  unfashionable.  The  rich  and  swagger 
are  above  the  vulgarity  of  being  damned." 

"  Still,  we  certainly  are  producing  funny  con- 
ditions," Mrs.  Williger  remarked,  "  if  you  look 
at  them  from  the  old-fashioned  point  of  view. 
Now  that  Jacob  Van  Gilder  has  set  up  his  new 

291 


The  Millionairess 


home  with  Lily  Vesey,  his  daughters,  who  stay 
with  the  mother,  call  him  Mr.  Van  Gilder,  and 
speak  of  him  as  a  person  they  were  introduced 
to  at  Lady  Curzon's  while  they  were  abroad. 
And  then  you've  heard  the  story  of  the  little  boy 
with  the  new  father,  haven't  you?  No?  It's 
simply  too  awfully  clever  !  '  I've  got  a  new 
father,'  says  a  little  boy  to  his  playmate,  proudly. 
'  Humph  !  '  the  other  boy  replies,  '  you  needn't 
be  so  big  about  it.  It's  only  old  De  Vrees;  he 
was  my  father  first,  I  guess.'  ' 

"  Did  you  select  the  performers  for  to-night. 
Miss  Lamont?"  Beekman  asked,  in  a  lowered 
voice. 

She  did  not  understand  him.  She  was  not 
aware  there  were  to  be  any  performers. 

"Oh,  yes;  I  hear  so,"  he  said.  "That  Mile. 
Saint  d'Or,  who  created  such  a  sensation  while 
at  one  of  the  music  halls,  is  one,  and  La  Cachuca, 
the  Spanish  dancer,  is  to  be  the  other.  Have 
you  seen  them,  or  either  of  them?" 

"  I  have  never  been  to  any  of  the  variety  thea- 
tres," she  replied.  "  I'm  practically  alone,  and 
my  amusements  are  somewhat  limited  by  neces- 
sity. Some  of  my  married  friends  in  town  were 

292 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

going  to  get  up  a  party  to  go  to  Weber  and 
Fields's  last  winter,  but  it  fell  through  somehow." 

"  Perhaps  you  won't  care  to  see  these  perform- 
ers. We  —  " 

Had  she  waited  for  him  to  finish  his  remark 
with  a  proposal  that  they  both  enjoy  a  quiet  talk, 
instead  of  witnessing  the  vaudeville  performance, 
she  would  have  replied  differently,  and  spared 
herself  the  greatest  of  the  mortifications  of  the 
evening.  But  she  spoke  quickly. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  should  enjoy  seeing  them,"  she 
said. 

After  dinner,  he  left  her  to  her  own  resources, 
being  anxious  that  his  attentions  to  her  should 
not  become  marked.  She  fled  to  the  sewing-room 
to  relieve  her  complex  feelings  in  the  company 
of  her  mother  and  Tonette.  There  she  told  of 
the  celebrated  performers  whom  Miss  Van  Ness 
had  engaged,  and  urged  the  old  and  the  young 
lady  to  reconsider  their  determination  not  to  par- 
ticipate in  the  festivities.  All  three  presently  de- 
scended to  the  noisy  lower  floor,  where  Laura 
again  fell  to  superintending  the  servants. 

While  she  moved  about,  Harold  Kimball,  who 
figured  so  unhappily  in  an  earlier  chapter  in  this 

293 


The  Millionairess 


history,  attached  himself  to  her  side.  He  did 
so  without  encouragement  from  her,  we  may 
be  sure.  With  an  ardour  spurred  by  too  gen- 
erous dining,  he  sang  in  her  ear  maudlin  praises 
of  her  beauty.  She  tried  to  escape,  but  he,  con- 
scious of  her  design,  determined  not  to  lose  this 
chance  to  pursue  the  acquaintance.  Finally,  cor- 
nered and  fearful  of  a  more  trying  scene,  she 
stood  and  listened  to  what  he  had  to  say.  Let  it 
suffice  that  she  found  it  torture  to  submit  to  his 
company  under  the  circumstances.  Though  not 
every  one  present  might  have  thought  the  case 
so  serious,  she  was  very  much  frightened.  She 
had  not  known,  and  would  not  have  believed, 
that  a  man  would  address  himself  to  a  lady  as 
he  did,  with  innuendoes  so  abhorrent  to  a  pure 
woman,  with  a  tone  and  glances  which  added 
insult  to  his  disrespect. 

"  I  was  only  telling  her  I  would  cut  my  dresses 
lower  if  I  were  so  beautiful  a  woman,"  he  ex- 
plained to  his  affianced,  when  that  wide-awake 
young  woman  saw  Laura's  face  and  pulled  him 
away. 

Laura  went  into  the  conservatory  to  compose 
her  too-easily  legible  face.  Kimball  quickly  dis- 

294 


The   Millionairess  H$- 

engaged  himself  from  Henrietta  and  followed 
her  —  with  a  face  that  was  also  too  scrutable. 
Beekman,  who  had  seen  the  first  part  of  the 
adventure  and  been  unable  to  leave  his  com- 
panion of  the  moment,  read  Laura's  face  and 
then  Kimball's,  and  he  also  went  to  the  con- 
servatory. 

As  he  entered  the  long  arcade,  curtained  again 
and  again  by  palms,  giant  ferns,  and  delicate 
pendants  of  greenery,  he  heard  the  sound  of 
KimbalFs  voice,  a  sudden  rustle  of  Laura's  skirts 
suggesting  a  note  of  alarm,  and  then  her  voice 
commanding  Kimball  to  leave  her  at  once. 

"  Miss  Lament !  Oh,  Miss  Lament !  are  you 
here?"  Beekman  called,  advancing  down  one 
side  of  the  conservatory,  while  Kimball  passed 
out  with  uncertain  step  and  sheepish  look  on  the 
other  side. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Beekman,"  Laura  cried,  "  I  was  so 
frightened!" 

"  Was,"  he  replied,  "  but  are  not  now.  I  was 
going  to  suggest  that  these  performers  are  about 
to  go  on  —  if  you  really  intend  to  see  them. 
But  before  we  go  in,  may  I  ask  you  about  this 
vine  ?  You  may  be  surprised,  but  I  have  to  inter- 

295 


The  Millionairess 


est  myself  in  all  things  that  have  life,  as  well 
as  many  which  do  not,  in  order  to  travel  intelli- 
gently. From  men  to  mice,  and  from  the  trees 
to  the  mosses  on  their  trunks,  they  are  all  the 
prey  of  the  professional  Ishmaelite  who  calls  him- 
self an  explorer." 

What  was  his  magic,  by  which  he  could,  as 
by  a  wave  of  the  hand,  restore  a  mind  distracted 
as  hers  had  been  ?  Did  it  hide  in  the  honest  ring 
of  his  voice,  or  was  it  bred  of  that  confidence 
which  even  his  slightest  movement  disclosed? 
Laura  asked  herself  these  questions,  and  then 
admitted  that  she  did  not  need  to  know  the 
answer.  Enough  that  she  was  certain  of  the 
magic,  and  was  made  calm  while  its  spell  lasted. 

The  performances  of  the  dancer  and  singer 
took  place  in  the  dining-room,  which  had  been 
cleared  for  the  purpose.  To  Laura,  whose  inno- 
cence blinded  her  to  its  nature  and  purpose,  — 
both  traceable  back  to  the  ceremonies  of  forgotten 
heathen  ages,  —  the  dance  seemed  merely  a  move- 
ment in  which  rampant  ardour  displaced  poetry 
and  grace.  The  performance  of  Mile.  Saint  d'Or 

—  or  what  little  she  suffered  herself  to  see  of  it 

—  affected  her  differently.    In  a  much  less  offen- 

296 


The   Millionairess  & 

sive  form,  pruned  for  the  general  eye  and  ear, 
it  had  served  to  startle  the  variety-hall  habitues 
for  a  season.  Here  she  sang  and  acted  it  as  she 
would  have  done  in  Paris.  It  was  a  song  in 
French,  illustrated  by  pantomime.  French  was 
the  language  in  which  Laura  thought  and  even 
dreamed,  for  she  had  lived  her  most  impression- 
able years  upon  the  Riviera.  Therefore,  only  the 
newest  slang  and  the  unspoken  suggestions  es- 
caped her  comprehension. 

"Ain't  she  horrid?"  Tonette  whispered  to 
Mrs.  Lament. 

"  So  like  her  father's  taste,"  the  old  lady  re- 
plied, loud  enough  for  others  to  hear.  "  But  I 
sha'n't  interfere.  I  got  nothing  by  opposing 
him." 

"  I  fear  I  must  be  very  old-fashioned,"  Laura 
said  to  Mr.  Beekman,  under  her  breath.  "  I 
must  ask  you  to  excuse  me  —  for  —  really  —  I 
cannot  remain." 

"  I  tried  to  hint  to  you  that  this  would 
be  the  case,"  said  he;  "  but,  of  course,  you  could 
not  understand." 

Then  she  rose  and  slipped  out  with  her  too 
combustible  cheeks  aflame  again. 

297 


The  Millionairess 


On  this  night  of  pleasure  to  nearly  all  in  that 
company,  and  of  acute  pain  to  her,  the  only 
other  notable  occurrence  from  Laura's  point  of 
view  happened  while  she  was  again  in  the  con- 
servatory, this  time  with  Henrietta  Van  Ness. 
At  the  same  moment,  Tonette  and  Mr.  Beekman 
met  in  the  passage  leading  to  it,  and  the  "  Why, 
Mr.  Beekman,"  followed  by  "What?  little 
Tony?  "  told  their  own  story  of  former  meetings 
in  a  happy  hunting-ground  where  Beekman  and 
the  Darbleys  had  often  fared  under  one  roof. 

"  So  this  is  where  you  disappeared  to,"  he 
exclaimed;  "how  did  it  all  happen?" 

"  I  met  an  angel  and  she  took  me  with  her," 
Tony  said  ;  "  for  Miss  Laura  is  an  angel  ;  no 
better  one  ever  grew  wings  ;  and  this  was  heaven 
till  it  came  to  be  the  other  place,  just  for  to- 
night. I'll  tell  you  what  this  all  reminds  me 
of  —  of  that  salt  lick  where  you  got  the  elk 
with  the  fifteen  prongs.  'Twan't  fair  —  you 
said  so  yourself  •  —  and  this  ain't  no  fairer. 
There  was  you  and  paw  and  Big  Dan,  up  in 
the  trees  and  on  the  rocks  around  the  lick,  and 
there  come  the  elk  —  and  got  paw's  bullet  in  his 
lungs  and  wouldn't  die;  and  then  got  yours  in 

298 


The   Millionairess  ^ 

the  lungs  and  wouldn't  die ;  and  then  got  his  hide 
all  tore  along  the  back,  by  Big  Dan's  whole 
magazine  full  of  lead.  Well,  Miss  Laura's  at 
the  lick,  sure  enough,  and  getting  it  in  the  lungs, 
and  maybe  in  the  heart,  and  all  over.  I  tell  you 
it  ain't  fair.  I  don't  care  if  I  am  nothing  but 
Rocky  Mountain  bred,  we  folks  wouldn't  take 
a  woman's  house  and  refuse  to  speak  to  her  or 
'sociate  with  her,  and  set  up  a  hurdy-gurdy  in 
her  dining-room,  and  let  men  chase  her,  —  say, 
here's  more  trouble.  Don't  go  'way,  for  heaven's 
sake." 

"  Pshaw !  "  Henrietta  Van  Ness  was  saying  to 
Laura,  "  I  was  inclined  to  be  vexed  at  Harry 
Kimball  at  first,  —  though,  after  all,  he's  simply 
taken  too  much  wine,  and  would  have  been  sorry 
for  it  in  the  morning,  —  but  if  you  are  going 
to  exaggerate  a  pebble  into  a  mountain  and  make 
a  scandal,  you  will  simply  expose  your  manners, 
and  we  —  I  fancy  we  shall  survive  it." 

Her  tone  was  contemptuous.  The  words  she 
employed  were  such  as  no  man  or  woman  could 
use  in  friendliness.  Looking  back  at  her,  now, 
we  can  see  that  she  had  from  the  first  intended 
only  to  make  use  of  Laura,  her  purse,  and  her 

299 


The  Millionairess 


house,  and  then  repudiate  her  obligation.  She 
knew  by  experience  that  she  could  keep  no  friend 
of  Laura's  quality  after  her  own  was  discovered. 

:<  You  are  not  just,"  Laura  said,  in  her  gentle 
way.  "  I  should  not  have  spoken  of  it  even  to 
you,  had  you  not  asked  me.  To  you  alone,  I 
will  say,  also,  that  I  would  not  have  used  you  so 
ill  as  to  expose  you  to  such  treatment." 

"  Humph  !  "  from  Henrietta. 

"  Nor  should  I  have  taken  such  a  liberty  as  to 
bring  into  another  woman's  house  such  persons 
as  those  theatrical  women." 

"  Oh,  Lord  !  "  Henrietta  groaned,  quite  as  if 
she  had  not  expected  to  hear  this  fault  found. 
"  Your  house  is  not  so  easily  hurt.  You  loaned 
it  to  my  friends,  and  their  names  are  a  sufficient 
guarantee  of  as  good  behaviour  as  any  one's  house 
calls  for.  But,  really,  I  can  see  no  use  in  your 
trying  to  quarrel,  Miss  Lamont." 

"  I  am  not  quarrelling,"  she  answered,  truth- 
fully. '''  You  had  something  to  say  to  me  ;  will 
you  please  tell  me  what  it  is  ?  " 

"  Tonette,"  said  Beekman,  "I  do  'not  like  to 
stand  here  under  the  circumstances." 


300 


The  Millionairess 


"No;  please  don't  go,"  Tonette  replied. 
"  They're  both  loaded  for  bear,  I  tell  you." 

"  Then  we  must  go  in,  Tony,"  Beekman  in- 
sisted. "  I  will  not  stand  here." 

"  I  merely  meant  to  say  that  Cachuca  and 
Saint  d'Or  want  their  money  —  two  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars,  I  believe  it  is." 

"  I  pay  those  women  ?  Is  it  just  to  ask  me 
to  pay  them,  Miss  Van  Ness  ?  " 

"  Oh,  hello  !  "  Henrietta  said,  as  Beekman  and 
Tonette  turned  into  the  conservatory.  "  You  are 
very  opportune,  to-night,  Mr.  Beekman.  Mr. 
Kimball  has  his  own  opinion,  you  may  find,  but 
Miss  Lament  will  be  doubly  grateful,  I  don't 
doubt." 

"  I  hope  for  your  approval,  also,  Miss  Van 
Ness,"  Beekman  remarked,  as  he  turned  to  lead 
Tonette  past  the  agitated  girl  and  her  assailant. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Henrietta,  "  explain  to 
Miss  Lament  that  when  two  theatrical  people  are 
engaged  in  her  name  and  play  in  her  house,  they 
expect  to  be  paid  by  her.  If  they  are  not  paid, 
the  private  performance  they  are  likely  to  give 
will  cast  their  public  one  in  the  shade  —  you  might 
suggest.  You  won't  earn  my  approval  if  you 

301 


The   Millionairess 


succeed,  Mr.  Beekman,  because  it's  nothing  to 
me  one  way  or  the  other,  but  you  will  end  a 
very  vulgar  dispute,  of  which  I  am  more  than 
sick  already." 

She  turned  and  left  the  conservatory  with  a 
sweep  and  stride  which  emphasised  her  eagerness 
to  end  the  unpleasant  work  she  had  so  elab- 
orately planned. 

"  I  hope,  Mr.  Beekman,  that  I  have  not  been 
the  cause  of  any  misunderstanding  between  you 
and  your  friends,"  Laura  ventured,  apologetically. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  so,"  he  replied,  amused  at 
the  idea.  "  But,  Miss  d'Arblay  suggested  that  I 
might  be  of  service  to  you,  and  I  shall  be  delighted 
if  I  can." 

"  To  think  of  my  being  asked  to  pay  those 
actresses  !  "  Laura  exclaimed.  "  I  simply  cannot 
do  it." 

"  It  is  too  bad,"  said  he,  "  but  I  think  Miss 
Van  Ness  spoke  truly.  Though  you  have  been 
placed  in  a  false  position,  you  cannot  expect  them 
to  consider  any  interests  but  their  own,  and  the 
noise  and  scandal  that  will  ensue,  if  they  are 
not  paid,  will  be  even  less  endurable  than  the 
pain  it  will  cause  you  to  pay  them." 

302 


The  Millionairess 


"I  do  not  care  anything  about  the  money," 
Laura  said.  "  I  have  paid  bill  after  bill  of  debts 
which  have  been  incurred  in  my  name  without 
my  authority  —  but  this  affects  my  self-respect." 

"  Oh,  no  ;  I  don't  think  that,"  said  Beekman  ; 
"  it  is  an  imposition  —  an  advantage  taken  of 
your  position.  The  real  trouble,  Miss  Lamont, 
is  that  you  have  had  no  one  to  advise  you  as  to 
the  acquaintances  you  were  making.  I  would 
have  liked  to  do  so,  but  it  would  have  seemed 
presumptuous." 

"  I  thank  you,  sincerely.  But  the  end  of  it 
must  come  at  some  time,  and  now  is  the  time. 
I  have  been  disgraced  by  having  those  creatures 
in  my  house,  and  my  right  to  protest  against 
their  having  been  brought  here  is  lost  if  I  pay 
them." 

She  was  more  angry  and  farther  beyond  self- 
control  than  ever  before  in  her  life. 

"  But,  Miss  Lamont,  I  doubt  if  there  is  any  one 
else  here  except  myself  who  would  pay  them  if 
you  did  not." 

"  I  cannot  help  it.  Then  they  shall  not  be 
paid,"  said  she,  and  turned  her  back,  as  if  she 
had  finally  disposed  of  the  matter. 

303 


The  Millionairess 


Without  betraying  the  impatience  he  must  have 
felt,  Beekman  went  to  her  side  and  argued  with 
her.  He  told  her  that  he  had  heard  that  she  had 
become  acquainted  with  the  Van  Nesses,  then 
had  met  her  in  their  company  at  the  Rhinebeck 
wedding,  and  finally  had  seen  that  she  was  blindly 
entangling  herself  with  them.  Only  through 
some  lady,  a  mutual  friend,  could  he  convey  a 
warning  to  her,  but  he  knew  no  lady  who  was  a 
friend  to  both,  and  was  therefore  helpless.  As  a 
last  effort  to  aid  her,  he  had,  in  a  way,  forced  him- 
self upon  this  party  at  her  house  with  the  full  con- 
viction that  she  would  need  a  friend  before  the 
night  was  over. 

"  You  call  it  friendly  to  advise  me  to  pay  and 
swallow  this  indignity?"  she  interrupted,  almost 
hysterically. 

"  I  am  nothing  but  friendly  in  advising  you  to 
end  this  whole  miserable  business  as  quietly  and 
quickly  as  possible,  swallowing  a  lesser  indignity 
to  avoid  a  greater,  paying  all  the  bills,  and  seeing 
the  last  guest  out  of  your  house  with  the  bearing 
of  gentleness  and  of  immeasurable  superiority 
which  they  must  all  have  seen  that  you  possess 
up  to  this  point." 

304 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

"  I  would  rather  die,"  Laura  replied.  "  I  did 
not  believe  you  could  offer  such  advice." 

"  Oh,  Miss  Lamont,  do  not  say  that,"  Beekman 
answered. 

"  I  do  say  it.  You  would  have  me  degrade 
myself,"  said  she,  passing  the  boundaries  of 
reason  into  recklessness.  "  My  mind  is  made 
up.  I  cannot  with  self-respect  pay  those  women 
—  and  I  will  not." 

She  was  so  wrought  upon  as  to  be  forgetful 
of  herself,  of  her  admiration  for  him,  even  to  such 
an  extent  as  to  quarrel  with  him,  or,  for  that 
matter,  with  every  one. 

As  he  searched  his  mind  for  new  arguments, 
there  was  a  bustle  at  the  door,  and  a  woman  in 
the  colours  of  a  tiger-lily,  followed  by  a  foreign- 
looking  young  man,  walked  into  the  conservatory. 

"  I  vant  Mees  Lamond,"  said  she.  "  I  vait  and 
vait  for  zat  money.  For  vhy  I  am  no  pay t  ?  " 

"  You  shall  have  your  money  at  once,"  Beek- 
man replied. 

"  I  forbid  you  to  pay  it,"  Laura  insisted,  almost 
tragically.  "  It  must  not  be  paid  in  my  name." 

"  Please  bring  in  the  other  performer,"  said 
Beekman,  to  the  foreign-looking  man,  "  and  I 

305 


The  Millionairess 


will  pay  both  at  once.  Miss  Lament,  you  are 
worn  out  with  the  trials  of  the  day,  and 
I  strongly  advise  you  to  rest.  The  others  who 
are  staying  here  will  sit  out  the  night  in  the 
library.  Do  me  the  honour  to  let  me  act  as  your 
factotum  in  caring  for  their  comfort." 

"  Mr.  Beekman,  you  are  presuming  too  far," 
Laura  said,  in  a  voice  quivering  with  excitement. 
"  Once  again  I  forbid  you  to  pay  them.  You 
have  no  right  to  manage  my  affairs  —  and  dis- 
grace me." 

Scalding  tears  coursed  from  her  eyes,  and,  out 
of  shame  for  her  weakness,  she  yielded  to  To- 
nette's  pressure  upon  her  arm,  and  went  from  the 
room,  leaving  Beekman  to  decide  between  risking 
her  displeasure,  or  abandoning  his  course.  He 
did  not  hesitate  a  second. 

On  the  next  morning,  when  the  dust-bin  was 
falling  heir  to  the  last  vestiges  of  the  entertain- 
ment, she  gave  orders  that  she  was  not  to  be 
called  until  her  guests  had  gone  from  the  house. 
Her  servants  made  her  acquainted  with  what 
went  on  meanwhile.  Courtlandt  Beekman  re- 
mained until  the  last.  He  had  an  amusing  inter- 
view with  Mrs.  Lamont,  to  whom  he  felt  obliged 

306 


The  Millionairess  HS- 

to  pledge  his  word  that  if  he  ever  married  it 
should  be  in  the  most  complete  and  public  manner. 
Laura,  waiting  up-stairs,  was  tortured  between 
the  impulse  to  beg  his  pardon  before  he  departed, 
and  the  silly  inclination  to  maintain  her  position 
of  the  previous  night.  The  knowledge  that  she 
could  not  justify  her  behaviour  at  that  time  was 
at  the  bottom  of  the  unworthy  impulse,  of  course. 
Shame  and  nervousness  were  still  controlling  her, 
yet  she  knew  that  when  calm  judgment  returned 
she  must  admit  her  fault  and  apologise  for  it. 
While  she  debated  with  herself,  a  servant  an- 
nounced that  Beekman  had  gone,  leaving  the  fol- 
lowing written  message. 

"  MY  DEAR  Miss  LAMONT  :  —  I  relinquish  the 
authority  I  so  unwarrantably  usurped.  One  minor 
reason  for  my  insisting  upon  paying  those  per- 
formers was  that  there  was  in  the  company  one 
whom  I  suspect  of  being  a  furnisher  of  society 
scandals  to  the  paper  called  Society  Talk.  Had 
those  music-hall  women  made  a  scene,  the  result 
would  have  been  a  very  unpleasant  parading  of 
your  affairs  in  print.  As  it  is,  I  do  not  see  that 
anything  worthy  the  attention  of  any  scandal- 

307 


The  Millionairess 


mongers  has  occurred.  May  I  suggest  that  if  you 
are  hurt  by  anything  which  is  published,  you  do 
not  pay  any  public  attention  to  it?  Silence  robs 
the  sensational  papers  of  the  food  by  which  they 
live. 

"  If  I  decide  to  go  to  Asia,  I  fear  this  must 
serve  as  my  adieu.  Very  faithfully, 

"  COURTLANDT     BEEKMAN." 


308 


XXIII. 

ENTER:    ONE    OF 
UNSAVOURY  REPUTE 

"...  Thou  wretch, 
Thou  hast  within  thee  undivulged  crimes."  —  Lear. 

ZAURA  quickly  came  to  her  senses.  She 
had  seen  that  Beekman  was  not  to  be 
judged  with  the  Van  Ness  coterie,  and  that 
only  a  thin  veil  of  politeness  concealed  his 
lack  of  respect  for  its  members.  She  recalled 
that  he  had  told  her  —  when  excitement  had  de- 
stroyed her  correct  perspective  —  that  he  had 
forced  himself  upon  that  company  solely  to  serve 
her.  Thus  he  had  betrayed  a  peculiar  interest  in 
her  —  one  wrhich  would  flatter  almost  any 
reasoning  woman  who  knew  what  rank  he  held 
among  men.  To  say  the  least,  he  had  offered  her 
what  she  needed  above  all  else  in  the  world  — 
strong,  wise,  masculine  counsel.  And  she  had 
parted  with  him  in  a  tantrum,  like  a  child.  Over 
and  over  again,  Henrietta  Van  Ness's  sneering 
words  rang  in  her  ears :  "  You  will  simply  expose 

309 


The   Millionairess 


your  manners."  The  fear  that  she  had  done  this 
developed  into  a  conviction.  Being  good  and 
honourable,  she  sorrowed  over  her  injustice,  her 
ingratitude,  and  the  possible  loss  of  Beekman's 
friendship,  but  I  should  not  like  to  say  how  much 
more  than  all  else  this  suspected  "  exposure  of 
her  manners  "  troubled  her.  I  might  be  doing  her 
an  injustice. 

"  York  says  —  "  said  Tonette. 

"Oh,  Tonette!  How  can  you  be  so  rude?" 
Laura  exclaimed.  "  We  who  have  known  Mr. 
Stone  a  long  while,  almost  intimately,  never  speak 
of  him  so." 

"  I  asked  him  if  he  minded,"  Tonette  replied, 
"  and  he  said  I  could  call  him  '  York  '  if  it  made 
me  any  easier.  You  sent  me  to  him  every  day,  to 
learn  the  flower  business,  and  we  could  not  help 
getting  acquainted.  And,  anyhow,  he  called  me 
'  Tonette  '  to-day.  Well,  he  says,  the  only  bad 
thing  about  this  party  is  that  you  was  obliged  to 
quarrel  with  those  Van  Nesses,  because  you-all 
live  so  close  together  and  they-all  are  as  malicious 
as  Satan.  As  for  the  rest  of  it,  York  —  or  Mr. 
Stone  —  says  you've  got  to  trust  yourself  and 
paddle  your  own  canoe,  and  such  a  mess  as  that'll 

310 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

give  you  experience  that's  worth  more  than  a  year 
of  preaching.  I  told  him  he  would  come  near 
upsetting  our  apple-cart  if  I  thought  he  was  going 
back  on  you,  but  he  don't  act  as  if  he  meant  to 
be  ornery,  and  I  just  had  to  believe  it  was  all 
for  the  best,  though  I'm  so  hot  I  lump  Courtlandt 
Beekman  and  the  Van  Nesses,  and  the  whole 
b'iling,  all  in  together  and  don't  never  want  to 
hear  of  any  of  'em  again." 

The  revelation  of  this  intimacy  between 'York 
Stone  and  Tonette  would  —  only  a  few  months 
before  this  —  have  been  a  severe  blow  to  Laura. 
And  even  as  it  was,  many  another  woman,  hoping 
as  she  had  hoped  for  a  similar  standing  with  her 
lieutenant,  would  have  been  hurt  and  angry  with 
the  buoyant-spirited  girl.  But  the  more  Laura 
thought  of  the  fact  that  Stone  discussed  her  pri- 
vate affairs  with  Tonette  while  refusing  to  hear 
of  them  from  her,  the  more  she  reproached  her- 
self. Her  loss  of  self-control  in  Mr.  Beekman's 
presence  —  her  "  blind  and  wicked  pride  "  she 
called  it  —  had  greatly  humbled  her.  Since  that 
time  she  had  taken  to  analysing  her  conduct,  to 
prosecuting  herself  before  the  court  of  her  con- 
science, and  sitting  in  stern  judgment  upon  her 


The  Millionairess 


littlest  weaknesses.  Instead  of  finding  fault  with 
Tonette,  she  charged  herself  with  possessing 
some  serious  fault  or  lacking  some  noble  virtue, 
else  so  just  and  kindly  a  man  as  York  Stone  could 
not  for  two  years  have  withheld  from  her  what 
he  so  readily  granted  to  a  new  acquaintance.  She 
applied  herself  to  a  strict  self-searching,  in  order 
to  discover  her  fault.  The  task  was  hopeless, 
since  the  reason  for  Stone's  conduct,  only  to 
be  found  in  the  laws  governing  the  sexes,  was 
as  mysterious  to  mortals  as  the  cunning  of  those 
flowers  which  reach  down  and  press  their  pollen 
upon  a  bee's  back  in  order  that  it  may  be  carried 
to  some  distant  mother. 

There  did  appear  in  Society  Talk  a  report  of 
the  Clock  House  party  ;  one  that  made  Laura  and 
every  friend  of  hers  wince.  Its  purpose  was  to 
make  an  excuse  for  describing  the  dance  of 
"  Cachuca  "  and  the  acting  of  the  Frenchwoman 
in  a  manner  calculated  to  please  the  peculiar  taste 
of  that  journal's  readers.  In  order  to  bring  out 
the  more  strongly  the  fact  that  both  women  gave 
performances  free  of  most  of  the  restraint  they 
had  shown  before  the  general  public,  it  was  set 
forth  that  Miss  Lament  and  several  of  her  friends 

312 


The  Millionairess  && 

retired  from  the  room,  one  or  two  of  them  in 
tears,  and  all  with  scorched  faces.  However,  the 
reporter  honestly  —  and  perhaps  mischievously, 
as  well  —  credited  the  party  and  the  engagement 
of  the  performers  to  Henrietta  Van  Ness,  and 
explained  that  the  gathering  took  place  at  the 
Clock  House  because  it  had  been  borrowed  for 
the  purpose  by  Miss  Van  Ness. 

The  anger  of  the  Misses  Van  Ness  at  this 
truthful  presentation  of  the  facts  it  is  not  our 
intention  to  describe.  Their  detestation  of  Laura 
Lament,  bred  of  their  own  shabby  treatment  of 
her,  was  not  lessened,  we  may  be  sure,  by  this, 
which  they  considered  a  point  gained  over  them. 

How  keenly  Laura  felt  the  hurt  of  the  exposure 
we  can  only  imagine,  when  we  think  how  the 
occurrences  thus  made  public  wounded  her  when 
they  took  place.  At  times  she  felt  like  hiding  her- 
self from  all  who  knew  her,  and  at  times  like 
going  to  every  friend  she  valued,  with  her  own 
version  of  the  case.  While  she  debated  what 
line  of  action  to  pursue,  she  found  cause  to  admit 
that  the  ill  wind  blew  her  some  good.  This  was 
because  of  the  condolences  which  came  to  her  by 
every  post.  As  she  read  them  she  felt  able  to 

313 


The  Millionairess 


measure  the  value  of  most  of  the  friendships  she 
had  formed. 

I  will  not  quote  from  the  letters  of  her  fel- 
low members  of  the  Beaux  Arts  Brotherhood, 
because  all  expressed  deep  regret  at  her  having 
been  so  scandalously  used  by  the  Van  Nesses, 
and  her  "ill-fortune  in  having  her  name  appear 
in  the  notorious  chronicle  of  society  scandals. 
Friendlier,  more  sympathetic  letters  she  could  not 
wish  for.  Eagerly  she  opened  a  letter  whose 
envelope  revealed  Archie  Paton's  handwriting. 
Even  more  quickly  she  flung  it  aside,  for  it  re- 
ferred to  her  misfortune  as  something  to  have 
been  expected,  mentioned  the  Van  Nesses  as  per- 
sons whom  "  other  ladies  had  shown  the  good 
judgment  to  shun,"  and  stated  that  he  blamed 
himself  for  not  having  warned  her  that  "  her 
infatuation  for  the  lacework  of  life  must  lead 
to  just  such  catastrophes  as  this."  Bryan  Cross 
wrote  to  her  on  his  new  parsonage  note-paper, 
a  kindly  letter,  yet  one  through  which  she  could 
see  that  he  restrained  a  strong  inclination  to  re- 
buke her  for  making  light  of  his  life-work.  That 
was  his  characteristic  way  of  putting  it  :  not  that 
her  course  contravened  the  moral  law,  so  much 

314 


The   Millionairess  H£ 

as  that  it  ignored  his  warning,  as  if  he  had  copy- 
righted the  moral  law. 

"  You  wrote  me  that  my  lectures  made  you 
uneasy,  but  that  you  could  not  honestly  convict 
yourself  of  doing  wrong.  Dear  Miss  Lamont," 
he  closed,  "  if  you  do  not  yet  see,  by  what  hap- 
pened at  your  house,  how  surely  and  invariably 
the  dedication  of  our  lives  to  pleasure  leads  farther 
and  farther  toward  excess,  you  even  yet  will 
grant  that  no  such  tendency  can  follow  a  life  given 
over  to  healthy  exercise,  study,  and  a  constant 
effort  to  bring  the  poor  and  rich  back  into 
brotherhood,  failing  which,  disaster  will  invaria- 
bly come  upon  us  worst  of  all  offenders,  the 
Anglo-Saxon  race." 

To  her  surprise,  even  Courtlandt  Beekman 
wrote  to  her  —  a  short  letter,  yet  one  she  thought 
worth  keeping  after  many  others  had  been  thrown 
away :  "  It  was,"  he  wrote,  "  when  I  put  myself 
in  your  place  that  I  saw  how  cruel  you  must  find 
that  scurrilous  publication.  I  sympathise  with 
you  sincerely.  But  there  is  another  point  of 
view  —  for  the  responsibility  is  rightly  placed 
and  you  are  made  to  appear  in  such  a  light  that 
no  one  can  read  it  without  feeling  for  you  the 

315 


The   Millionairess 


respect  you  deserve.  Then,  again,  there  is  now 
such  a  Niagara  of  personal  gossip  and  such  exag- 
geration of  whatever  the  more  popular  and  the 
scandalous  journals  discuss,  that,  instead  of  any 
items  of  news  being  seven-day  wonders,  they  are 
long-lived  if  they  survive  the  time  it  takes  to  read 
them.  Believe  me,  this  will  prove  no  more 
enduring." 

The  last  of  many  more  letters  left  her  as  the 
first  had  found  her,  unable  to  decide  whether  to 
put  her  face  or  her  back  to  the  world.  She  kept 
to  the  house  while  in  this  state  of  indecision,  until 
the  mere  length  of  the  seclusion  rendered  that  her 
policy. 

A  sorely  wounded  creature  it  was  who  extended 
a  scant  welcome  to  her  cousin  Jack  Lamont,  when 
he  was  able  to  make  the  journey  from  New  York. 
He  had  not  seen  her  during  her  two  years  of 
unbroken  enjoyment  of  her  wealth  and  ease,  and 
was  forced  to  compare  her  with  the  credulous 
girl  upon  whom  he  had  so  cruelly  tried  to  prey. 
Now  that  experience  had  developed  her  face,  and 
care  was,  for  a  time,  straining  at  it,  he  could 
scarcely  believe  she  was  the  same  person  as  that 
childish  rustic  of  his  memory  —  whom,  perhaps, 


The   Millionairess  Hf 

he  had  dreamed  of  pursuing  again  with  other 
adventures,  should  he  regain  his  strength. 

In  another  book  has  been  told  the  story  of  how 
this  black  sheep  of  the  Lamonts  had  dealt  with 
Laura  when  he  discovered  both  her  and  the  fact 
that  she  was  heir  to  the  great  wealth  of  the  head 
of  the  family  then  dying  in  the  Clock  House,  and 
leaving  no  others  so  nearly  related  to  him  as 
Laura,  her  mother,  —  and  Jack,  whom  he  had 
disowned.  Laura  was  completely  ignorant  of  her 
good  fortune,  and,  worse  yet,  was  in  what  seemed 
to  her  a  desperate  plight.  Her  mother  had  been 
taken  to  a  hospital,  and  she  was  as  good  as  alone 
in  the  world.  Her  one  desire  was  to  see  the 
lawyers  through  whom  her  father  sent  fort- 
nightly remittances  to  her  mother.  Learning  this, 
Jack  Lament  undertook  to  guide  her  to  their 
offices  in  New  York,  where  she  was  wholly  a 
stranger.  He  decoyed  her  to  a  loft  in  a  business 
building  in  Twenty-third  Street,  and,  by  an  ar- 
rangement with  a  friend  of  his  own  moral  quality, 
locked  her  in  there,  vowing  that  he  would  confine 
and  starve  her  until  she  consented  to  marry  him. 
It  was  her  only  other  relative,  Archibald  Paton, 
who  rescued  her. 

317 


The  Millionairess 


Jack  Lament  was  of  that  contingent  which  we 
used  to  call  the  unprincipled  or  immoral,  but  which 
we  now  designate  as  decadents.  By  the  time  he 
was  of  marriageable  age  he  had  riveted  himself 
to  a  course  of  living  which  made  marriage  seem 
bondage  and  full  citizenship  (for  marriage  and 
paternity  are  essential  to  that  state,  as  well  as 
to  self-respect  and  manly  pride)  appear  insuffer- 
able boredom.  Few  men  in  New  York  knew  as 
many  women  as  Lament  knew,  or  had  known, 
when  he  was  thirty-two.  He  spent  half  his  life 
with  the  other  sex,  and  seven-tenths  of  his  fortune 
went  out  to  them;  yet  the  less  said  about  them 
the  better,  except  perhaps  to  remark  that  his  af- 
fairs with  them  were  the  talk  of  the  other  morally 
dead  bachelors  in  town  for  years. 

He  had  moved  for  a  dozen  years  in  what  may 
be  called  the  underground  life  of  New  York, 
where  all  the  people  —  with  few  exceptions  — 
are  mated,  where  not  a  woman  among  all  of  that 
sex  is  married,  and  where  not  a  man  is  legally 
or  formally  bound  to  his  mate.  Nowhere,  in  an 
American  book,  has  this  underworld  been  de- 
scribed, and  we  have  been  led  to  believe  it 
peculiar  to  Paris,  Berlin,  and  Vienna,  yet  it  is 

313 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

peopled  by  as  many  persons  in  New  York  as  in 
any  other  one  of  the  world's  capitals.  We  see  its 
members  at  the  theatres,  at  the  great  restaurants, 
and  on  the  uptown  drives,  and  very  many  of  us 
are  sufficiently  skilled  to  be  able  to  detect  the 
brand  or  hall-mark  which  they  bear.  No  men 
or  women  are  more  stylishly  or  expensively  clad, 
and  they  are  a  fairly  well-appearing  and  well- 
behaving  fraction;  indeed,  their  comfort  de- 
pends upon  the  closeness  with  which  they  imitate 
the  decorum  of  the  virtuous. 

In  this  sub-cellar  of  society,  among  these  ro- 
dents and  rabbits  of  our  species,  the  pervert  Jack 
Lamont  had  been  a  dashing  figure  until  drink  and 
bad  courses  generally  rotted  his  moral  fibre  and 
undermined  his  health. 

At  the  time  of  his  vicious  adventure  wit^  Laura 
he  was  the  subject  of  a  very  rare  bit  of  gossip, 
for  a  companion,  who  had  enjoyed  his  bounty 
when  he  was  prosperous,  had  failed  to  cast  him 
off,  after  the  usual  manner  of  her  kind,  when  his 
money  had  gone.  He  was  living  upon  the  gen- 
erosity of  this  weak,  rather  than  wholly  wicked, 
woman  when  he  came  as  a  guest  to  the  Clock 
House. 

319 


The  Millionairess 


In  his  turn  he  startled  his  cousin  Laura. 
His  cheeks  were  hollow,  a  feverish  light  was  in 
his  wandering  eyes,  his  clothes  hung  loosely  upon 
his  frame.  He  was  obliged  to  rest  upon  a  sofa, 
after  taking  twenty  steps  from  her  carriage,  and 
before  he  could  be  shown  to  his  room.  With  her 
first  glance  all  fear  of  him  fled,  with  most  of 
her  former  repugnance.  Sympathy  welled  in  their 
places.  She  was  glad  she  had  allowed  him  to 
come.  His  arrival,  when  she  was  so  anxious  for 
an  excuse  to  stay  within  doors,  seemed  like  an 
answer  to  prayer,  and  she  was  in  a  mood  to  be- 
stow a  wealth  of  care  upon  his  restoration  to 
health.  She  had  prepared  a  spacious,  well-ap- 
pointed room  for  him,  but  the  first  pity-rousing 
sight  of  him  changed  her  plans,  and  she  hur- 
riedly made  ready  her  choicest  bedchamber. 
Even  that  did  not  now  seem  good  enough. 
In  this  best  chamber,  with  a  canopied  bed  on 
which  he  might  shield  his  burning  eyes,  with 
heavier  shades  at  the  windows  to  keep  the  day- 
light in  subjection,  with  a  padded  armchair 
brought  from  another  room,  —  and  all  the  serv- 
ants impressed  by  her  concern,  —  she  surrounded 
the  feeble  man  about  town  with  a  setting  for 

320 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

a  maiden  as  exquisite  as  Watteau  ever  painted. 
And  then  she  pampered  him  with  the  choicest 
delicacies  procurable  by  money,  skill,  and  solici- 
tude. 

He  had  expressed  his  repentance  for  his  past 
wickedness  in  a  second  letter,  and  she  had  sent 
back  her  forgiveness.  That  may  have  been  with 
reservations  and  conditions :  now  it  was  uncondi- 
tional and  complete.  Again,  then,  she  was  off  her 
guard,  trusting,  wholly  unsuspicious,  and  at  ease, 
believing  him  unable  as  well  as  disinclined  to  do 
her  injury.  And  he !  debris  of  shattered  principles, 
wreck  of  honour,  outcast  of  virtue,  worn  in  body 
and  distempered  in  mind,  surely,  now,  he  appeared 
as  incapable  of  mischief  as  his  grateful  and  polite 
speeches  to  his  benefactress  betokened. 

"  I  am  so  ashamed,"  he  said  to  her ;  "  I  do  not 
know  how  you  can  bear  even  to  look  at  me." 

"  But  I  have  forgotten  everything,"  she  said, 
bending  over  him  and  laying  a  gentle  hand  upon 
his  shoulder.  "  We  have  only  the  future  to  think 
of  now,  your  health  and  your  comfort." 

"  I  shall  hope  and  try  to  make  you  really  forget 
the  past  —  as  truly  as  you  are  good  enough  to 
make  believe  that  you  already  do  forget  it." 

321 


XXIV. 


THE    WRECKING   OF 
BRYAN  CROSS 

"  Oh  William,  the  dismal  cell,  the  mournful  sackcloth,  the  girdle  with  sharp 
points  of  iron,  would  be  nectar  and  ambrosia  compared  to  what  I  suffer."  — 
Sorrows  of  Werther. 


CROSS  deserved  credit  for  more 
than  appeared  in  his  sermonish  letter  to 
Laura,  because  he  kept  out  of  it  all  signs  of 
the  mental  distress  he  suffered  when  he  wrote 
it.  He  had  broken  down  in  his  pulpit,  and  his 
congregation  had  insisted  upon  his  resting  from 
his  labours  while  they  supplied  another  preacher 
in  his  place.  Twice  we  have  referred  more  or  less 
vaguely  to  the  doubts  which  had  so  long  delayed 
his  entrance  into  the  ministry  after  he  had  other- 
wise fitted  himself  to  labour  in  that  field.  Now 
that  what  was  to  be  the  climax  of  this  phase  of 
his  character  has  begun  its  fell  work,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  explain  that  his  scruples  concerned  the 
very  foundation  of  the  Christian  faith.  In  a  word, 
he  did  not  believe  —  or,  at  the  least,  he  felt  his 
faith  to  be  insecure.  Face  to  face  with  the 

322 


The  Millionairess  Hf 

moment  when  he  should  have  suffered  his  father 
to  put  him  in  the  list  for  preferment  to  a  pulpit, 
his  misgivings  overwhelmed  him,  and  he 
pleaded  ill  health,  and  a  desire  for  rest  in  travel. 
Rest  he  never  found,  because  wherever  he  jour- 
neyed he  perplexed  himself  with  the  mental 
struggle  which  shifted  him  from  faith  to  down- 
right religious  nihilism.  His  nature  was  too 
sentimental  for  him  to  rest  satisfied  with  this 
last  extreme. 

In  Germany,  where  men  approach  the  ancient 
Greek  attitude  toward  religion,  where  he  found 
philosophy  influencing  every  phase  and  crisis 
of  life,  where  the  Church  holidays  no  longer  bear 
an  ecclesiastical  stamp,  and  where  love  of  Nature 
and  of  the  Beautiful  satisfies  the  higher  cravings, 
Bryan  fancied  himself  content  for  a  time.  But 
he  discovered  that  this  satisfaction  came  only  in 
regarding  these  views  as  offering  a  compromise 
ground  upon  which  one  might  revive  religious 
interest  where  shopworn  Churchianity  had  lost 
its  hold  upon  his  fellow  Americans.  He  soon 
realised  that  if  this  were  recommended  as  a  means, 
he  must  yet  look  forward  to  the  end  —  full  faith 
at  last.  To  preach  that  as  a  final  resource  for 

323 


The  Millionairess 


others,  he  knew  he  must  begin  with  it  in  his  own 
heart,  and  so  he  went  adrift  again. 

The  boast  of  the  Japanese,  who  claim  to  have 
risen  superior  to  every  form  of  superstition,  —  as 
they  call  religion,  —  so  startled  and  shocked  him, 
especially  when  he  realised  the  small,  often  super- 
ficial and  largely  imitative  attainments  of  that 
midget  people,  that  he  derived  hope  from  the  mere 
strength  of  the  revulsion.  It  was  only  when  his 
father  died  and  he  was  obliged  to  hasten  back 
to  take  charge  of  the  Clarion  and  of  his  invalid 
sister  that  he  found  comparative  rest  in  new  occu- 
pations and  responsibilities.  For  a  time  he  was 
able  to  abandon  the  struggle  and  busy  himself 
with  these  other  matters. 

He  accepted  the  call  to  the  pulpit  of  the  Knick- 
erbocker Baptist  Church  when  it  seemed  to  him 
that  the  magic  of  his  oratory  and  the  zeal  he  had 
flung  into  his  crusade  against  "  dollar-worship  " 
were  sufficient  for  enduring  success  in  any  pulpit. 
He  thought  that  to  preach  morality  would  answer. 
It  did  for  a  time,  but  one  day  a  deputation  of  the 
officers  of  the  church  came  to  him  to  say  that 
they  had  enjoyed  "  a  wondrous  feast  of  logic 
and  a  purging  of  latter-day  humours,  but  they 

324 


The  Millionairess  ^ 

were  hungering  for  news  of  God  and  His  scheme 
of  salvation." 

"  Give  us  a  homely  old-fashioned  sermon  on 
Calvary,"  they  demanded. 

He  managed  to  conceal  his  disturbance  and  to 
reply  briskly  that  he  had  been  taking  his  own  new 
ideas  too  seriously.  They  should  have  a  ringing 
sermon,  he  promised,  on  the  very  next  Sunday. 
The  good  men  of  the  church  went  away  delighted, 
unmindful  how  much  of  Bryan's  instant  acquies- 
cence was  due  to  his  temperament  and  his  readi- 
ness with  speech  or  how  difficult  it  was  to  weigh 
the  words  that  he  could  charge  so  easily  with 
his  magnetism.  But  he  knew  himself,  and  crept 
away  from  them  as  Beekman's  elk  had  gone,  in 
Tonette's  story,  riddled  and  torn  with  shot.  He 
went  to  the  bedside  of  his  saintlike  sister  to  bathe 
in  the  calm  of  the  chamber  where  Death  had  so 
long  lingered,  deliberate  and  in  no  haste.  She 
was  very  weak,  now,  gliding  out  of  her  human 
state  visibly  at  last.  Yet,  on  the  very  edge  of  the 
gulf,  she  was  the  same  Mabel  whose  eerie  penetra- 
tion had  startled  him  a  thousand  times,  and  was 
now  to  shock  him  as  never  before. 

"  I  knew  you  were  coming,"  she  said  for  greet- 

325 


The  Millionairess 


ing.  "  I  seem  to  have  been  with  you  in  your  office 
at  the  church;  were  you  not  there  with  some 
men?  I  came  with  you  all  the  way  here  to  my 
bedside.  Sit  down,  Bryan.  Nurse,  please  leave 
us  alone.  Brother,  I  am  dying  at  last.  I  shall 
be  with  you  only  a  few  days,  and  I  have  some- 
thing of  the  utmost  importance  to  say  to  you. 
I  have  dreaded  it.  I  have  hoped  not  to  have  to 
say  it  —  to  see  a  reason  for  doubting  my  own 
clear  belief.  Brother,  I  must  say  it  at  last." 

His  heart  cried  out  within  him.  His  guilt  ap- 
prised him  of  what  was  to  come. 

"  We  have  never  held  anything  back  from  one 
another,  Mabel,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  Bryan,"  she  moaned,  fixing  her  search- 
ing gaze  upon  his  face  and  struggling  to  rise  to 
a  sitting  posture,  "  how  can  I  say  the  words  you 
have  forced  me  to  utter?" 

As  she  continued  to  exert  herself  by  pressing 
her  elbows  upon  the  bed  he  rose  to  assist  her. 
He  was  too  late.  By  a  marvellous  summons  of 
her  slight  strength  she  lifted  her  body  and  sat  up. 
Then  she  raised  one  dainty,  lace-edged  sleeve  of 
lawn  and  pointed  a  pink  finger  at  him  with  the 
gesture  of  a  Fate,  while  a  stern  look  that  he  had 

326 


The  Millionairess  H5- 

never  seen  there  before  came  into  her  usually 
gentle  eyes. 

"  You  are  a  living  lie !  "  she  said.  "  You  are 
a  minister  of  a  Christ  whom  you  disown;  oh, 
my  brother,  of  a  Saviour  you  despise!  O  God, 
when,  in  a  few  days,  or  it  may  be  after  the 
moment's  space  of  oblivion  which  divides  the  dead 
from  Doomsday,  I  stand  beside  our  parents  and 
tell  them  that  their  son  and  they  are  never  to 
meet  because  he  was  an  unbeliever  —  oh-h-h ! 
Bryan,  Bryan,  what  will  they  say?" 

"  Mabel,  have  mercy  on  me  —  and  on  yourself, 
too.  You  must  not  excite  yourself  like  this. 
I- 

"  Bryan,"  she  insisted,  "  the  hurt  is  in  the 
agony  I  have  suffered  so  long.  Nothing  but 
relief  can  come  of  my  exciting  myself  to  bring 
you  back  to  the  God  of  your  fathers.  You  do 
not  believe  in  God,  Bryan." 

"  I  do ;  I  do,  Mabel.  On  my  honour,  I  have 
never  doubted  God.  It  is  the  hereafter  —  the 
future  state,  about  which  I  have  been  so  miserably 
tortured  with  misgivings.  Even  of  that,  dear 
sister,  I  only  admit  that  I  have  misgivings;  I 
will  not  say  I  deny.  Oh,  sister,  pity,  but  do 
not  condemn  me."  327 


The  Millionairess 


"  Bryan,"  she  said,  with  an  uncontrollable  look 
of  horror  in  her  eyes,  "  what  is  belief  in  God 
without  belief  in  His  fatherhood,  His  eternal  care 
and  keeping,  the  salvation  of  the  faithful  which 
He  charged  upon  His  Son?  I  would  have  killed 
myself  years  ago,  when  I  had  such  health  as  yours, 
had  I  not  believed  in  these  things,  for  what  would 
have  been  the  good  of  living?  To  have  lost 
the  faith  you  had  as  a  child  must  have  come  by 
some  effort,  probably  by  the  study  of  doubt. 
And  yet  I  tell  you  from  the  grave's  edge  that  the 
proof  of  Christianity  is  the  '  ineffectually  and 
absurdity  of  disbelief  '  which  '  begins  at  nothing, 
leads  nowhere,  and  cannot  satisfy  a  good  man  or 
a  reasoning  mind.'  Bryan  Cross,  put  away  your 
sophistry  and  come  to  the  altar  with  me.  Let  me 
save  you.  Let  that  be  the  one  great  good  of  my 
poor  life." 

"  I  cannot,  Mabel.  I  will  not  deceive  you  ;  I 
cannot.  For  years  I  have  striven  for  it,  but  faith 
has  eluded  me." 

The  dying  woman,  saintly  looking  in  any  eyes 
and  holy  in  his,  clasped  one  of  his  hands  and 
spoke  to  him  as  one  inspired.  From  secular  as 
well  as  sacred  books,  by  proverb,  by  illustration 

328 


The  Millionairess  &6 

drawn  from  great  and  little  events  in  history  and 
in  their  own  experiences,  by  comparisons  that 
missed  neither  the  rotation  of  planets  nor  the 
growth  of  the  humblest  flowers,  by  fervid  flights 
into  the  boundless  enthusiasm  of  her  own  belief, 
she  poured  upon  him  a  store  of  argument,  ex- 
ample, ay,  of  what  seemed  proof,  such  as  he 
had  never  heard  and  had  never  believed  a  human 
being  could  amass.  Never  preacher  spoke  like 
her  —  not  Savonarola  or  St.  Francis  Xavier  or 
Whitefield  —  because  not  one  of  them  could  have 
had  the  personality  of  one  refined  by  Death  yet 
still  among  the  living ;  because  none  of  these  was 
a  tender,  loving,  crystal-souled  woman  pleading 
with  another  self  —  as  Bryan  had  always  been  to 
her. 

"  I  want  to  —  I  long  to  believe,"  he  wailed, 
sinking  upon  his  knees  at  her  bidding  while  she 
pleaded  with  the  Almighty  in  his  behalf  as  with 
the  authority  of  a  prophet. 

The  fevered  interview  ended  as  it  began  except 
that  it  left  the  invalid  almost  unconscious  from 
exhaustion.  It  sent  Bryan  into  the  streets  to 
walk  like  one  pursued,  blindly,  at  hot  pace  along 
the  pavements,  now  muttering  to  himself,  and  at 

329 


The  Millionairess 


times  lost  even  to  his  own  consciousness,  like  one 
entranced. 

Sunday  found  him  with  a  ringing  sermon  pre- 
pared out  of  the  echoes  of  the  impassioned  utter- 
ances of  his  sister  during  her  assault  upon  his 
doubts.  When  he  awoke  and  read  the  sermon 
over  he  was  cheered  by  the  conviction  that  every 
sentence  vibrated  with  the  spirit  of  unquestioning 
belief.  It  must  prove  all  that  was  demanded  by 
the  congregation;  it  must  thrill  every  believing 
heart,  he  thought.  But  on  the  way  to  church  the 
notion  that  his  sister's  words  would  be  but  bor- 
rowed plumage  began  to  worry  him.  The  realisa- 
tion that  after  living  a  lie  he  was  about  to  empha- 
sise his  falseness,  began  to  prey  upon  him.  It 
was  too  late  and  he  was  too  much  disturbed  to 
prepare  another  discourse,  so  he  pushed  on,  dazed 
by  the  perplexities  of  his  situation.  He  reached 
his  private  room  in  the  church  edifice,  heard  with 
dulled  senses  many  exclamations  of  concern  over 
his  haggard  appearance,  and,  at  last,  mounted 
the  pulpit  steps  and  sat  down.  The  church  swayed 
before  his  eyes  and  the  people  made  a  dull  blur  in 
front  of  him. 

He  delivered  a  prayer  and  gave  out  a  hymn, 

330 


The  Millionairess  %& 

then  read  another  hymn  —  altogether  mechan- 
ically. He  was  far  less  conscious  of  what  he  did 
than  of  the  roaring  confusion  in  his  soul  which 
said :  "  Preach  it  and  find  faith  afterward." 
"  Don't  dare  to  preach  it  —  liar !  coward !  " 

At  last  came  the  time  for  the  sermon.  He 
thought  he  had  put  an  end  to  his  trepidation,  and, 
summoning  the  temper  which  so  well-trained  an 
orator  can  always  command  in  greater  or  less 
degree,  he  plunged  into  the  discourse.  His  words 
rang,  whether  with  true  feeling  or  in  mere  obedi- 
ence to  his  art  we  know  best,  and  the  spellbound 
audience  deemed  itself  the  most  fortunate  body  of 
worshippers  in  the  land  that  morning.  But  this 
was  only  during  the  beginning,  the  first  third  of 
the  sermon.  Finally,  it  was  his  part  to  command 
the  people  to  shout  the  words:  "  I  believe;  I  be- 
lieve !  "  and  for  him  to  repeat  the  declaration 
after  them,  on  his  own  behalf.  This  his  sister 
had  done,  or  had  asked  him  to  join  with  her  in 
doing,  and  he  had  foreseen  the  dramatic  effect 
this  would  have  in  the  pulpit. 

"  Shout  it!  "  he  cried,  "  as  the  people  shouted 
before  Jericho." 


The  Millionairess 


"  I  believe,"  they  shouted  twice.  Then  every 
eye  met  his,  and  all  awaited  his  response. 

It  was  thought  that  he  staggered  as  the  dis- 
turbance of  the  air  rolled  like  a  billow  against 
the  pulpit.  There  was  a  long  pause.  The  people 
saw  him  close  his  eyes  and  open  and  close  them 
again.  They  saw  him  moisten  his  lips  with  his 
tongue.  But  they  could  not  see  or  even  suspect 
his  agony.  A  voice  was  roaring  in  his  ears: 
"  Do  not  dare  to  say  it." 

"  Now,  hear  me,"  said  he  —  but  in  how  strange 
a  voice,  that  began  huskily,  then  broke,  then  ended 
in  a  treble. 

He  never  made  the  declaration.  He  saw  his 
sister's  face  appear  between  him  and  the  people, 
shadowy,  wavering,  with  horror  depicted  upon 
it.  He  clutched  the  pulpit-rail  and  swung  back- 
ward, then  caught  himself  and,  lurching  forward 
this  time,  fell  like  a  half-emptied  sack  across  the 
pulpit. 

The  deputation  that  visited  him  at  his  home 
on  that  night  announced  that  the  congregation 
had  voted  him  a  long  holiday.  They  found 
themselves  obliged  to  deliver  their  message  briefly, 
for  Mabel  Cross  was  dying  and  their  pastor  had 

332 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

to  be  led  from  the  death-chamber  to  see  them. 
The  long-suffering  woman  died  in  such  a  stress 
of  gentle  grief  at  parting  with  him  in  the  midst 
of  his  doubts  that  he  was  inclined  to  charge  him- 
self with  having  killed  her.  The  final  scene  in 
her  short  life,  which  had  been  one  unbroken  calm, 
was  almost  violent,  so  intense  was  his  grief  and 
so  deeply  agitated  were  her  last  moments. 

Bryan  was  confined  to  his  bed  when  the  fu- 
neral took  place  and  for  days  afterward.  As  a 
long  sea-voyage  was  recommended,  he  decided  to 
set  out  upon  a  trip  to  England  and  thence  to  Aus- 
tralia. Among  the  many  who  came  to  bid  him 
farewell  when  he  was  about  to  start  was  Laura 
Lamont,  to  whom  he  was  so  effusive  in  his  greet- 
ing and  complimentary  in  all  that  he  found  to  say 
that  she  marvelled  why  she  had  never  suspected 
the  depth  of  his  regard  for  her.  Twice,  when  she 
rose  to  go,  he  begged  her  not  to  hurry,  and  when, 
at  last,  she  felt  obliged  to  leave  him,  he  held  her 
hand  and  kept  his  hold  upon  it  until  she  reached 
the  door.  Stranger  still,  he  refused  to  say  "  good- 
bye." 

"  I  have  a  feeling  that  I  shall  see  you  again 
before  I  get  away,"  he  explained. 

333 


The  Millionairess 


His  appearance  and  manner  left  the  impression 
of  impending  death,  and  she  could  not  resist  the 
thought  that  his  behaviour  strengthened  this  un- 
welcome foreboding. 

She  had  not  been  at  home  in  Powellton  two 
hours  when  his  card  was  sent  up  to  her.  She 
went  to  him  in  the  drawing-room  with  wonder  in 
her  face  and  surprise  in  her  greeting,  but  he  re- 
plied to  her  quite  as  if  it  was  customary  to  begin 
a  subject  in  one  part  of  the  State  and  finish  its 
discussion  in  another.  In  truth,  the  matters  he 
at  once  began  to  broach  were  those  which  had 
filled  his  mind  in  New  York,  yet  had  not  there 
been  touched  upon. 

"My  heart  is  not  dead,  Miss  Lament,"  said 
he.  "  It  is  only  stunned.  It  will  be  as  warm  and 
sensitive  and  will  respond  as  eagerly  as  before  to 
whatever  appeals  to  it  when  I  am  stronger  and  the 
shock  of  all  that  has  happened  wears  off." 

"  I  am  sure  you  will  soon  be  yourself  again," 
she  replied  ;  "  but  why  have  you  come  so  far  in 
your  weak  condition?  It  is  not  wise." 

"Do  you  believe  in  the  Christian  faith?"  he 
inquired.  "  Wait,  please  ;  I  mean  have  you  com- 
plete, unquestioning  faith  —  in  all  of  it  —  in  every 

334 


The   Millionairess  H£ 

declaration  of  the  creed  as  you  repeat  it  in  church 
every  Sunday  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes ;  surely  I  have ;  of  course.  How 
can  you  ask  it  ?  " 

"  Did  you  never  feel  the  slightest  doubt 
about  — 

"  I  never  knew  a  doubt  of  any  iota  of  it,  Mr. 
Cross,"  Laura  answered.  "  I  do  not  think  I 
could  be  brought  to  doubt  a  word  of  it.  More 
than  that,  do  you  know  that  I  never  can  believe 
any  man  or  woman  sincere  who  says  he  or  she 
is  an  unbeliever." 

Bryan  heard  her  to  the  last  word  and  then  sat, 
for  an  instant,  staring  at  her.  His  mouth  twitched 
nervously  and  an  unusual,  unnatural  light  shone 
in  his  fevered  eyes. 

He  sprang  forward  and  grasped  Laura  by  both 
her  wrists,  towering  over  her  as  she  sat,  startled 
and  alarmed,  in  her  chair. 

"Then  give  me  the  secret,  do  you  hear?" 
he  thundered,  in  the  tone  that  had  set  a  hundred 
great  audiences  quivering.  "  Tell  it  to  me  —  the 
secret  of  your  faith.  Tell  it  to  me  —  quickly,  or 
I  shall  go  mad.  How  dare  you  mock  me  with 
your  boasting,  and  deny  me  the  right  to  share 
your  faith?"  335 


The  Millionairess 


"  Mr.  Cross,  release  me,"  Laura  bade  him,  as 
she  struggled  up  from  the  chair,  and,  finding 
that  he  did  not  oppose  her,  moved  toward  the 
door.  "  You  are  ill  and  yet  you  should  have 
known  that  you  could  not  govern  yourself." 

He  seized  one  of  her  hands,  stayed  her  depar- 
ture gently,  and  flung  himself  upon  his  knees  at 
her  side. 

"  No,  no,"  he  cried,  with  a  broken,  a  pitiful 
voice,  "  for  God's  sake,  do  not  go.  Do  not  leave 
me.  Have  mercy  on  me.  My  unbelief  has  goaded 
me  for  years;  it  is  driving  me  mad,  it  killed 
my  sainted  sister.  Give  me  the  key  to  your  faith, 
tell  me,  —  oh,  as  you  hope  for  mercy  in  the 
hereafter  —  tell  me  how  to  believe  —  how  you 
believe.  I  do  not  command  you.  Forgive  me 
my  rudeness.  I  want  to  be  gentle.  See,  now, 
how  humbly  I  beg  you  for  only  just  a  little  light. 
You  can  save  my  soul,  Miss  Lamont.  If  there 
is  a  hell  you  can  pluck  me  from  it.  Won't  you? 
Won't  you,  dear  Miss  Lamont  ?  Oh,  as  you  love 
your  God,  have  pity  on  me." 

"  Please  rise,  Mr.  Cross,"  she  said.  She  now 
had  no  fear  of  him;  instead,  his  misery  roused 
all  her  sympathy,  "  Please  rise.  I  will  do  my 

336 


The  Millionairess  && 

best  to  answer  you.  I  also  have  known  moments 
—  not  of  disbelief  or  downright  doubt  —  but  of 
questioning  and  confusion.  Always,  I  have  gone 
upon  my  knees  and  bared  my  soul  in  prayer,  and 
God  has  manifested  Himself,  filling  my  being 
with  an  unutterable  calm,  with  a  certainty  in  His 
glory,  with  full  confidence  in  His  littlest  promise." 

"  But  how?  How  did  you  pray?  What  state 
of  mind,  what  form  of  words,  what  method 
brought  this  peace?  Tell  me!  Keep  nothing 
back.  You  say  you  found  God,  but  so  do  millions 
like  you.  How  found  you  Him?  tell  me  or  I 
must  die  like  a  dog  —  a  mad  dog,  a  mad  dog,  I 
say." 

He  still  held  her  hand.  He  still  riveted  his 
burning  gaze  upon  her  eyes.  He  gripped  her 
flesh  to  punctuate  his  speech. 

"  How  ?  "  Laura  replied.  "  Why,  I  approached 
Him  as  my  mind  saw  Him,  walking  tall  and  fair 
as  a  god  among  the  lowly,  or  hanging  on  the  cross 
and  looking  with  sad  and  pardoning  eyes  upon 
the  cruel  world  fh  at  tore  and  mocked  Him  —  yes, 
even  as  a  babe  in  the  arms  of  His  mother  I  in- 
voked His  —  " 

"  You  fool !  "  Bryan  thundered,  flinging-  her 

337 


The  Millionairess 


hand  from  his  ;  "  you  can  tell  me  nothing  —  for 
you  know  nothing.  You  mock  me  with  your 
parrot  talk.  Ah,  God!  I  might  have  known  it. 
Your  faith  is  ignorance,  your  belief  is  in  words 
and  familiar  pictures.  God  is  because  a  book  says 
so.  Christ  was  a  saviour  because  Murillo  painted 
Him  as  a  babe.  Do  you  think  I  am  to  be  satisfied 
with  mere  empty  words?  You  neither  think  nor 
know.  To  have  faith,  according  to  you,  is  to  be 
a  baby  or  a  fool.  Great  heaven,  what  shall  I  do  ? 
To  whom  shall  I  go  ?  Does  any  one  know  God  ? 
Does  any  one  anywhere  possess  intelligent  belief  ? 
Can  any  man  say  where  or  how  I  shall  find  an 
Almighty?" 

Even  while  he  was  speaking,  he  was  moving 
swiftly  toward  the  door.  Once  there  he  dashed 
out  of  the  room. 

Laura  sank  into  a  chair  nerveless,  almost  ex- 
hausted, and  needing  time  to  recover  both  men- 
tally and  physically  from  her  amazing  experience. 
Never  before  had  she  witnessed  pure  passion  in 
any  form.  It  left  her  as  a  terrible  clap  of  thun- 
der leaves  any  one  of  us. 

In  five  minutes  —  or  ten  at  the  most  —  the 
door  opened  and  Bryan  Cross  came  slowly  and 
feebly  back  to  her  side.  338 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

"I  was  mad,"  he  said.  "Was  I  brutal?  Is 
any  apology  sufficient  to  gain  your  forgiveness? 
Oh,  Miss  Lament,  I  am  beside  myself;  and  I 
am,  oh,  so  miserable." 

"  You  should  govern  yourself,  Mr.  Cross,"  she 
answered,  gently.  "  I  would  rather  see  you  calm 
and  reasonable  than  hear  you  apologise.  What 
do  my  feelings  amount  to  beside  such  excitement 
as  you  allowed  yourself  to  suffer?" 

Bryan  Cross  uttered  a  groan. 

"  My  heart  is  like  a  leaden  thing  in  my  breast," 
he  said ;  "  and  my  head  seems  half  wooden  —  or 
half  gone.  That  is  natural  when  one  has  suffered 
so,  isn't  it?" 

"  I  am  sure  it  is,"  she  replied,  quite  ingenu- 
ously ;  "  you  have  a  constitution  that  will  re-assert 
itself.  Your  loss  seems  terrible,  now,  but  you 
must  recollect  that  your  sister's  sufferings  are 
over." 

"  Miss  Lamont,  I  am  so  afraid,"  he  said.  "  I 
am  like  a  little  nervous  child  in  a  dark  wood.  I 
am  full  of  alarm.  I  hardly  dare  go  abroad  by 
myself.  In  the  thickest  crowd,  in  the  brightest 
light,  even  when  I  should  feel  safe,  in  my  bedroom 
at  home,  I  am  afraid." 

339 


The   Millionairess 


"  Afraid  of  what,  Mr.  Cross?  " 

"  Oh,  you  do  not  know  —  I  cannot  tell  you," 
he  said.  "  I'm  just  afraid  —  to  be  with  myself  — 
to  be  so  helpless  and  alone.  I  clung  to  Mabel  as 
to  the  better  part  of  my  life.  And  she  has  gone  — 
gone  —  denying  me  her  love  before  she  went." 

"  Oh,  I  know  better  than  that,"  she  replied, 
cheerily,  "  she  loved  you  with  her  whole  heart, 
for  she  told  me  so." 

"  There  were  things  between  us  of  which  she 
couldn't  tell  you,"  he  said,  plaintively  ;  "  but, 
anyway,  I  am  alone  now  —  and  so  afraid.  Miss 
Lamont,  I  want  to  ask  you  to  be  what  she  was  to 
me;  to  love  me,  to  let  me  lean  on  you  in  my 
misery  and  be  buoyed  up  by  your  goodness  when 
I'm  strong  again.  I  ridiculed  your  faith,  yet  I 
know  you  are  wholly  good  and  very  close  to  God. 
Won't  you  let  me  live  my  life  beside  you  ?  From 
you  I  would  gain  faith.  Won't  you  ?  Oh,  please 
don't  deny  me." 

"  But  I  —  I  respect  you  very  much,  Mr.  Cross. 
I  admire  you  and  wish  to  be  your  true  friend, 
always,  but  —  you  must  not  ask  for  more.  It 
cannot  be,  and  why  should  you  grieve  me  and 
cause  yourself  more  suffering  ?  " 

340 


The  Millionairess  & 

"  You  do  not  pity  me?  " 

"Oh,  I  do;    really,  I  do.     But  —  " 

"  You  will  not  marry  me?  " 

"  I  cannot,  Mr.  Cross.  You  are  not  well  — 
not  yourself.  You  scarcely  know  what  you  are 
saying." 

He  regarded  her  somewhat  blankly,  as  one  who 
looked  through  her  far  into  the  distance.  Then 
he  drew  himself  together,  and  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  I  might  have  known  it,"  he  said.  "  I  may 
have  been  too  clumsy  to  succeed,  but  I  knew  you 
would  not  be  my  wife.  And  yet,  oh,  God,  what 
that  a  man  has,  or  can  do,  or  get,  would  I  not 
promise  if  I  could  have  you,  with  your  pure  faith, 
by  my  side,  to  give  me  courage  through  life?  " 

He  would  not  stay  even  to  rest,  but  was  off 
almost  as  quickly  as  before. 


XXV. 

LOVE  AND  A  ROBBER 
BOTH  BREAK  IN 

"  So  they  grew  together 
Like  to  a  double  cherry."  —  Shakespeare. 

rHE  blandishments  of  town  in  winter  were 
again  proving  irresistible  to  Laura,  but 
her  own  greatest  society  effort  had  left  her 
too  sore  to  stray  beyond  the  small  and  early, 
family-like  meetings  of  the  Beaux  Arts  Brother- 
hood. She  was  seeing,  besides,  a  great  deal  more 
of  the  pleasures  of  a  staid  set  led  by  lawyer  Ship- 
ton's  wife,  a  set  that  went  in  for  courses  of  lec- 
tures and  readings,  for  whist,  and  for  afternoon 
chats  over  tea  and  cake.  The  Egerton- Woods, 
at  whose  dinner  parties  the  walls  were  hid  under 
roses;  the  Mowbray-Stantons,  who  had  Pade- 
rewski  in  to  entertain  them,  unless  there  was  some 
greater  artist-lion  obtainable,  saw  no  more  of  her 
than  the  etiquette  of  afternoon  calls  demanded; 
for,  if  she  was  not  convinced  that  those  who  as- 
sailed Pleasure  Living  were  right,  she  was,  at 

342 


The  Millionairess  H5- 

least,  not  certain  that  they  were  wrong.  A  great 
deal  of  her  time  was  spent  at  home,  planning 
the  spring  and  summer  campaign  for  the  advan- 
tage of  the  poor  of  Powellton  and  Wapata,  and 
in  riding  from  house  to  house  and  village  to  town 
upon  this  business,  with  Tonette  on  horseback 
beside  her  carriage. 

On  one  bright,  sunny  day  there  sounded  the 
report  of  a  pistol  beneath  her  bedroom  window. 
Before  she  could  reach  the  window,  another  loud 
explosion  shook  the  air.  She  saw  the  servants 
running  out  of  the  kitchen  door,  and  in  a  moment 
Tonette  and  Jack  Lamont  appeared  walking 
toward  the  house,  Tonette  with  a  large  revolver 
in  one  hand,  smiling  and  talking,  and  Lamont 
looking  rather  more  than  usually  grave. 

"  So  you  see,  it  won't  do  to  get  funny  with 
me,"  Laura  heard  Tonette  say  to  him;  "a  girl 
who  can  get  along  without  any  man's  help  can 
manage  to  do  without  any  man  hurting  her." 

Laura  drew  back  from  the  window,  so  as  not 
to  be  seen,  and  presently  sent  for  Tonette.  She 
proved  to  have  little  to  say. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  you  know  he  got  so  funny, 
once  before,  that  Miss  Johnson  had  to  make  a 

343 


The  Millionairess 


fuss.  I  didn't  mean  to  make  any.  I  meant  to 
teach  him  something  quietly.  Oh,  it  wasn't  much. 
I  didn't  slap  his  face  or  scream  or  anything; 
only  got  my  gun,  and  asked  him  out  to  take  a 
walk  in  the  garden  ;  nice  as  pie,  I  guess  he  thought 
I  was.  '  We  can  talk  more  quiet  there,'  I  says. 
He  took  the  bait  like  a  trout  under  the  ice.  When 
I  got  as  far  from  the  house  as  I  thought  I  could, 
I  took  put  my  gun  and  showed  it  to  him.  I 
merely  says,  '  This  is  what  I  carry  for  any  one 
that  thinks  I  don't  know  my  way  about.  For 
fear  you  may  think  I  ain't  used  to  a  gun,'  I  says, 
'  I'll  show  you.'  With  that,  I  asked  him  to  no- 
tice a  twig  on  a  bush  about  thirty  feet  ahead,  and 
I  shot  it  off  and  handed  it  to  him.  Then  I  took 
a  cent  and  threw  it  up  and  shot  it  somewheres 
into  the  next  county.  '  Now/  I  says,  '  we  can 
be  good  friends,  because  we've  seen  that  each  of 
us  can  bite,  and  you  know  whose  bite  is  the 
worst.'  Oh,  he's  all  right,  Miss  Laura.  I'm 
very  sorry  the  gun  made  such  a  noise." 

By  this  we  see  that  Jack  Lament  was  mend- 
ing, and  coming  rapidly  to  feel  like  himself  again. 
Laura  got  very  little  of  his  society,  for  he  still 
ate  his  meals  in  his  room,  and  seldom  entered 

344 


The   Millionairess  H£ 

any  other  part  of  the  house  except  to  reach  his 
own  quarters.  He  had  been  able  to  enjoy  short 
daily  walks  for  ten  days  or  more,  and,  though 
York  Stone  said  nothing  of  it  to  Laura,  that 
shrewd  observer  knew  that  the  invalid  had  vis- 
ited the  village  hotel  several  times,  had  made  some 
barroom  acquaintances,  and  had  enjoyed  more 
than  one  game  of  billiards. 

It  was  unfortunate  that,  though  Laura  had 
reason  to  plume  herself  upon  having  the  protec- 
tion of  a  man  who  was  nearer  at  hand  than  those 
in  the  servants'  wing  of  the  house,  her  cousin 
failed  to  be  of  service  when  a  robber  broke  in 
and  gave  her  a  dreadful  fright. 

It  was  the  second  of  a  remarkable  series  of 
burglaries.  They  proved,  in  time,  to  be  so  uni- 
form in  their  very  unusual  characteristics  that,  at 
first  the  neighbourhood,  and  finally  the  New 
York  press,  pitched  upon  them  as  a  theme  of  the 
greatest  interest  of  the  moment.  In  time  the  per- 
petrator of  these  crimes  became  nationally  notori- 
ous under  the  nickname  of  "  the  Flash-Light 
Fiend." 

His  first  visit  was  paid  to  the  house  of  the  man- 
ager of  the  carpet-works  at  Wapata.  He  selected 

345 


The  Millionairess 


a  night  when  that  person,  who  was  a  widower, 
had  gone  to  New  York,  leaving  the  house  and 
servants  in  charge  of  his  daughter,  famed  in  that 
countryside  for  her  great  beauty.  The  so-called 
"  fiend  "  woke  the  young  lady,  and,  after  taking 
a  finger-ring  and  brooch  of  trifling  value,  pro- 
duced a  blinding  light  and  declared  that,  by  its 
means,  he  had  taken  a  photograph  which  he 
should  treasure  with  his  other  keepsakes  as  long 
as  he  lived.  His  politeness  and  pretence  of  con- 
sideration for  his  frightened  victim  were  ex- 
ploiteti  in  the  press  in  heroising  reports  of  what 
he  said  and  did  during  his  nefarious  visit.  The 
same  evidences  of  his  misused  good-breeding  were 
never  missing  from  any  of  his  subsequent  ex- 
ploits, which  were  invariably  carried  on  in  the 
apartments  of  young  unmarried  ladies  for  petty 
gains  to  which,  with  mock  gallantry,  he  ascribed 
a  sentimental  value. 

Laura  Lamont,  as  I  have  said,  was  his  second 
victim.  She  was  awakened  toward  daylight  one 
morning  by  the  light  pressure  of  a  man's  hand 
upon  her  mouth. 

"Do  not  cry  out,"  he  whispered.  "On  the  word 
of  a  man  of  honour,  I  will  not  hurt  you  unless 

346 


The  Millionairess 


you  scream.  Attempt  that  and  I  must  kill  you, 
for  murder  is  less  to  me  than  the  danger  of  ex- 
posure. If  you  promise  to  be  perfectly  quiet, 
press  my  hand." 

The  terrified  woman  gave  him  the  required 
signal  of  obedience.  He  at  once  freed  her  mouth, 
and  sat  down  by  her  bedside. 

"  I  will  take  your  photograph  in  a  moment," 
said  he,  "  that  I  may  always  be  able  to  recall  the 
most  exquisite  of  beauties,  as  I  have  seen  her, 
like  a  queen  in  the  old  days  of  France,  holding  a 
morning  levee  in  her  chamber." 

A  blinding  flash  came  with  the  last  word  he 
spoke,  and  when  she  opened  her  eyes  she  was 
alone.  She  was  fearless  to  the  point  of  folly,  and 
her  courage  had  never  failed  her  as  it  did  in  this 
instance  when  she  promised  not  to  cry  out.  This 
was  not  to  be  wondered  at  by  those  who  consider 
that  she  awoke,  suffocating,  to  realise  a  plight  suf- 
ficiently terrible  to  make  imagination  swell  alarm. 
The  instant  she  reopened  her  eyes  after  the  flash, 
she  leaped  from  her  bed,  with  her  courage  full 
upon  her  again,  and  lighted  the  gas.  After  satis- 
fying herself  that  the  burglar  was  not  hidden  in 
her  bedchamber,  she  ran  out  into  the  passage,  and 

347 


The   Millionairess 


into  Tonette's  room.  It  took  time  to  rouse  the 
young  girl,  and  Laura  rang  the  chambermaid's 
bell  violently  while  waiting  for  Tonelte  to  come 
to  her  senses. 

"  Wake  Mr.  Lamont,"  said  Tonette. 

"  Why,  of  course,"  Laura  exclaimed,  and  ran 
to  her  cousin's  room,  turning  on  the  electric  lights 
in  the  passage  as  she  went.  So  much  time  was 
lost  in  rousing  him  that  Tonette,  clinging  to  her 
revolver  as  the  last  relic  of  her  Rocky  Mountain 
experience,  was  searching  the  ground  floor  rooms 
before  he  could  be  made  to  understand  what  had 
happened.  At  last  he  was  heard  to  leap  out  of 
bed,  calling  out  that  he  would  dress  as  quickly  as 
possible,  and  Laura  ran  back  to  slip  on  a  wrapper, 
and  catch  up  with  Tonette.  Before  Lamont 
joined  the  others,  the  butler  and  the  chambermaid 
had  swelled  the  searching  party.  When  he  did 
appear,  Lamont  almost  angered  Laura  by  what 
she  took  to  be  cowardice.  He  held  back,  wasted 
time  in  arguing  that  the  burglar  must  be  miles 
away,  begged  the  women  not  to  risk  their  lives, 
lamented  the  likelihood  that  he  was  taking  cold, 
and,  in  a  sentence,  behaved  like  an  arrant  pol- 
troon. A  back  window,  wide  open,  in  the  serv- 

348 


The  Millionairess  HS- 

ants'  wing,  appeared  to  explain  the  burglar's  mode 
of  entrance  and  of  exit,  but  no  other  sign  of  him 
or  of  his  work  was  discoverable. 

Strict  orders  were  given  to  the  servants  not 
to  mention  the  occurrence  in  the  village,  but  it 
got  into  the  newspapers  in  twenty-four  hours. 
One  who  had  not  already  suffered  an  exposure  of 
her  private  affairs  would  have  been  loth  to  see  her- 
self once  pilloried  before  the  impertinent  public, 
whereas  Laura's  horror  of  newspaper  gossip  had 
become  almost  morbid  since  the  "  Society  Talk  " 
paragraph  appeared.  We  are  told  by  the  press 
how  grand  a  bulwark  of  freedom  we  gain  by  its 
liberty,  we  read  that  the  new  force,  publicity,  is 
the  terror  of  the  wicked  and  the  tower  of  the 
virtuous,  but  when  our  most  intimate  affairs  are 
noised  upon  the  winds,  to  be  blown  into  every 
stranger's  house  and  to  litter  every  empty  mind, 
we  form  our  own  opinion  of  the  new  force. 
Vainly  we  try,  as  Diana  did  before  the  reporter 
Actaeon,  to  recover  our  privacy's  vesture  or  to 
plunge  into  some  screening  thicket  —  but  the  new 
rays  penetrate  apparel,  verdant  fastnesses,  even 
the  rock  walls  of  our  home  castles  which  the  law 
itself  may  not  enter  without  written  order  of 
court.  349 


The  Millionairess 


In  this  case,  the  news  of  Laura's  adventure 
leaked  or,  rather,  flowed  into  the  New  Yotk  news- 
papers in  exaggerated  articles  capped  by  scream- 
ing headlines.  Her  friends  traced  the  betrayal 
to  Lamont,  and  he  admitted  having  talked  of  it  at 
the  hotel,  never  dreaming,  he  said,  that  his  cousin 
would  object,  or  that  the  reporters  would  hear 
of  it.  The  gossip  concerning  the  Van  Ness  party 
was  revamped,  and  one  newspaper  illustrated  its 
broadside  with  a  picture  of  the  bedroom,  drawn 
from  imagination,  and  showing  the  flashlight 
fiend  seated  by  the  bed's  head  conversing  with  his 
victim.  Of  this  triumph  of  enterprise  Laura  could 
only  say,  from  the  depths  of  her  gentle  nature, 
that  she  prayed  Heaven  to  spare  every  journalist 
concerned  in  its  production  from  ever  feeling  or 
appreciating  the  moral  agony,  the  shame,  and  the 
torture  to  which  it  subjected  her.  She  avoided 
the  newspapers  as  if  she  had  come  to  imagine  the 
press  an  engine  devoted  to  her  destruction.  She 
wept  bitter  tears  and  clenched  her  teeth  in  desper- 
ate resistance  to  her  helplessness. 

The  Rev.  York  Stone  came  handsomely  from 
the  shell  of  his  reserve  at  this  juncture,  to  yield 
sympathy  and  shrewd  observation.  In  homely 

350 


The   Millionairess  ¥& 

gossiping  comment  upon  her  private  affairs  he 
proved  as  clear  and  vigorous  as  in  his  business 
counsel.  Though  quite  as  sturdy  and  confident 
as  before,  there  was  now  a  new  note  of  gentleness 
in  his  tone  and  views,  one  that  found  warm  re- 
sponse in  her  sensitive  nature.  Moreover,  he 
gave  her  his  attention  so  unreservedly  that  no 
topic  was  too  trifling  or  too  close  to  her  private 
concern  to  engage  his  interest.  As  if  spurred 
from  the  depths  of  his  broadened  sympathy,  he 
came  more  frequently  to  the  Clock  House  to  sit 
in  pleasant  converse  with  her  and  her  mother  and 
Tonette.  Laura  was  indeed  proud  to  abandon  the 
idea  that  it  had  been  through  some  fault  in  her 
own  nature  that  he  had  behaved  so  differently  in 
earlier  days. 

She  was  quite  alone  on  one  bright  afternoon. 
Her  mother  was  asleep  in  her  own  room.  To- 
nette was  —  somewhere  —  she  did  not  trouble  to 
ask  or  wonder  where,  and  she  was  hoping  that 
Mr.  Stone  might  happen  in,  as  indeed,  his  habit 
justified  her  in  fancying  that  he  would.  It  had  not 
often  been  the  case  that  both  Tonette  and  her 
mother  were  absent  when  he  called.  This,  per- 
haps, caused  her  to  be  a  trifle  impatient,  and,  to 


The  Millionairess 


speed  the  passage  of  time,  she  put  on  a  knitted 
tam-o'  shanter  cap,  drew  it  snugly  down  over 
her  ears,  and  went  out  into  her  park  to  walk 
—  always  with  the  front  gate  in  sight,  as  it  hap- 
pened. At  a  moment  when  she  had  turned  a 
corner  of  the  curving  drive  and  had  put  a  mass  of 
evergreen  bushes  between  herself  and  the  snow- 
clad  lawn,  she  heard  a  burst  of  girlish  laughter 
and  the  crunching  flight  of  more  than  one  pair  of 
feet.  Through  the  bush  she  saw  Tonette  in  full 
flight,  skirts  lashing,  arms  bent  up  from  the  el- 
bow, eyes  gleaming,  mouth  open  and  cleaving  the 
air  with  shouts. 

After  her  came  the  Rev.  Mr.  Stone,  one  foot 
far  before  the  other,  sliding,  clerical  coat-tails 
skimming  the  air,  one  arm  reaching  far  out 
toward  the  hoyden,  lips  parted  in  an  extensive 
grin  and  eyes  flashing  like  the  girl's.  He  caught 
Tonette  and  both  fell  upon  the  snow.  With  the 
quickness  of  a  wild  animal,  she  wrenched  herself 
free  and  rolled  over  and  over  out  of  his  reach. 
Was  Laura  dreaming,  or  did  she  actually  see  the 
young  rector  rolling,  in  similar  defiance  of  all 
dignity  and  decorum,  after  Tonette?  Alas!  there 
was  no  doubt  of  it.  And  now  Tonette  was  on 

352 


E   SAT  SlflNGING  HER   FEET  AND 
LOOKING  DOWN  AT  MR.   STONE" 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

her  feet,  shaking  the  snow  off  her  skirts,  dancing 
tantalisingly  beyond  Stone's  reach  and  crying  out : 

"  I'll  never  —  never  —  never !  Shame  on  you ; 
a  clergyman,  too!  A  high  old  clergyman,  you! 
Why  don't  you  chase  your  own  sheep?  You're 
not  my  shepherd  yet." 

"  Tonette !  Everybody'll  hear  you.  Come  to 
me,  I  say,"  commanded  the  rector. 

"Will  you  behave?" 

"  What  I  want  to  do  is  behaving,"  he  replied. 
"  Anyhow,  I  sha'n't  give  up." 

"  Got  to  catch  me,  then,"  said  Tonette,  and  ran 
again  —  straight  toward  Laura.  Beside  the  ever- 
greens, behind  which  Laura  stood  riveted  with 
astonishment,  was  a  tree  with  low  branches.  To- 
nette seized  one  of  these  and  lifted  herself  upon 
another,  on  which  she  sat  swinging  her  feet  and 
looking  down  at  Mr.  Stone  with  her  back  toward 
Laura,  who  crept  guiltily  and  swiftly  along  the 
drive  and  out  of  hearing,  with  what  mixed  emo- 
tions we  may  imagine. 

"  There !  "  Tonette  exclaimed,  "  I've  torn  my 
dress.  Oh,  dammit  —  ty,  dammitty,  dammitty, 
dam  —  " 


353 


The  Millionairess 


"  Tonette  !  Tonette  !  "  cried  the  young  clergy- 
man. "  Why  do  you  talk  like  that  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  be  deuced  smart,  and  all  that  sort 
of  thing,  don't  you  know  ?  "  she  replied,  mocking 
the  speech  of  our  Anglomaniacs. 

"  You  only  do  it  to  hurt  me,"  said  he. 

"  No,  not  at  all.  Fancy  your  thinking  that  !  I 
was  only  giving  a  rotten  imitation,  in  a  beastly 
sort  of  a  way,  of  your  very  swaggah  friends,  the 
Van  Ness  sisters." 

"  They're  not  my  friends.  I  scarcely  know 
them,"  Mr.  Stone  replied.  '  They  happen  to  be 
my  parishioners,  but  I  am  bound  to  say  I  never 
heard  them  use  bad  language." 

"  Oh,  well,  I  have,  then,"  said  Tonette;  "  I've 
heard  them  twice  out  of  the  only  three  times  I 
ever  saw  them.  The  other  day  when  I  was  in 
Bontecou's  drug  store,  Henrietta  was  there,  tak- 
ing a  good  big  nip  out  of  a  bottle,  which  she  called 
for  by  saying,  '  I  want  some  —  er  —  you  know/ 
and  her  sister  came  in  and  said,  '  I  ain't  ready,  yet. 
I've  had  a  lower  regions  of  a  time  trying  to  get  the 
hairpins  I  want  '  —  only  she  did  not  say  '  lower 
regions.'  She  said  the  same  thing  in  one  short 


354 


The  Millionairess 


word.     Shall  I  tell  you  what  it  was  ?  —  I  do  so 
want  to  talk  like  your  'ristocratic  parishioners." 

"  Won't  you,  please,  stop,  Tonette?  "  the  love- 
smitten  clergyman  pleaded.  "  Just  to  oblige  me, 
won't  you  be  your  dear,  sweet  little  self?  " 

"  Oh,  but  York,  really,  I  ain't  good  enough  as 
1  am;  I've  got  to  act  like  I  was  some  one  else; 
drink  and  swear  —  " 

"  Tonette,  what  has  come  over  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing  hain't,"  said  she,  allowing  the  light 
of  love  to  kindle  in  her  eyes  —  and  set  ablaze  the 
same  spark  in  his  tender  heart,  we  may  be  sure. 
"  I'm  only  teasing  you,  and  you  know  it  ;  you  - 
you  —  well,  I  won't  say  what  you  are.  At  least, 
I  can't  holler  it,  but  I'll  whisper  what  I  think  of 
you  when  I  get  down." 

Laura  now  slammed  the  gate,  and  came  boldly 
down  the  path  to  give  double  warning. 

"  Come  down  ;  here's  Miss  Lament,"  she  heard 
Mr.  Stone  command  in  a  sepulchral  whisper. 

"  I'm  not  afraid,"  Tonette  replied,  in  a  ghostly 
voice,  to  mock  him.  "  My  conscience  is  clear. 
You  better  skeedaddle." 

So  Laura  was  obliged  to  keep  on  in  her  course 
and  to  openly  discover  the  reckless  girl  in  the 

355 


The  Millionairess 


tree,  swinging  her  feet  dangerously  near  Mr. 
Stone's  breast,  while  he  stood,  snow-splotched 
from  shoulders  to  toes,  staring  foolishly  up  at  her. 

"  Why,  Tonette  !  "  Laura  exclaimed. 

"  Please  make  York  go  'way,"  Tonette  called 
back. 

"  Do  come  down,  Tonette  —  please,"  he  urged  ; 
"  do  get  down." 

"  Go  'way,  you  goose,"  she  whispered  ;  "  don't 
you  see  I  never  can  get  down  while  you're  there?  " 

Stone  therefore  advanced  and,  with  his  back  to 
Tonette,  broke  what  he  called  the  news  : 

"  Miss  Lamont,  I  have  asked  Tonette  to  be  my 
wife." 

"  Why!  I  am  -  Laura  stopped  there,  with- 
out saying  what  she  was  —  while  Tonette  slid 
down  and  came  and  hid  her  face  on  Laura's 
breast. 

"  It's  true,  Miss  Laura,"  she  said,  "  but  it  is  to 
be  as  you  say." 

"  You  love  one  another?  "  Laura  asked. 

"  I  love  her,"  said  Mr.  Stone. 

"  I'm  tired  er  bein'  pestered  so,"  said  Tonette. 

"  Well,  this  is  a  great  surprise  to  me,"  Laura 
said,  taking  one  of  each  of  their  hands  ;  "  I  can 

356 


The  Millionairess 


have  nothing  more  to  say  than  to  give  you  my 
congratulations  —  my  two  best  friends." 

She  led  the  way  into  the  house  and  ran  into  the 
library,  where  she  left  them  while  she  went  to 
her  room  and  sat  and  looked  into  the  grate  fire 
with  fixed  eyes,  as  if  the  leaping  flames  and  shift- 
ings  of  the  glow  of  the  coals  were  flashing  a 
sobering  message  to  her.  A  moving  message,  too, 
for,  after  a  few  minutes,  tears  came  to  her,  and 
she  rose  and  flung  herself  across  her  bed  and  cried 
?way  the  shock  of  this  new  revelation  which  so 
accentuated  her  own  loneliness. 


357 


XXVI. 

BEE  KM  AN  SCORES  A   FAILURE 

"  How  absolute  the  knave  is."  —  Hamlet. 

ZATER  in  the  afternoon  the  love-stricken 
clergyman  called,  and  in  a  manly,  straight- 
forward manner  told  her  of  his  love  for  Miss 
Tonette,  and  how  long  he  had  fought  against  it, 
because  to  have  yielded  seemed  certain  to  inter- 
fere with  his  usefulness  as  a  clergyman  devoted 
to  the  poor.  But,  he  said,  he  could  not  silence  the 
pleadings  of  his  heart,  and  when  about  to  confess 
his  love  to  the  maiden  he  saw  that  she  loved  him 
in  return.  They  had  discussed  the  future  soberly, 
and  Tonette  had  disabused  his  mind  of  the  fear 
that  marriage  would  interfere  with  his  life-work. 
Both  she  and  he  had  written  to  her  father  for  his 
approval,  and  there  would  not  be  a  single  cloud 
on  their  horizon  if  only  Miss  Lamont  would  give 
them  her  consent.  It  was  a  simple  and  a  very 
naive  story,  and  when  it  was  finished  Laura  said : 

358 


The  Millionairess  H5- 

"  I  know  you  both,  and  admire  you  both  so 
very  thoroughly  that  I  can  truly  say  I  envy  each 
of  you  the  other's  love  and  the  happiness  you 
will  bring  to  one  another." 

Their  conversation  led  to  a  renewal  of  the  dis- 
cussion over  the  purchase  and  new  management 
of  the  village  tavern,  Laura  having  opened  the 
endless  dispute  by  saying  that,  as  a  married  man, 
York  could  not  possibly  connect  himself  writh  the 
enterprise  lest  his  wife  should  suffer  along  with 
him  the  mistaken  opposition  of  the  narrower- 
minded  ones  among  his  parishioners.  The  cler- 
gyman held  the  contrary  view  that  the  dignity 
of  wedlock  would  make  him  wholly  secure 
against  all  scandal. 

In  the  course  of  the  argument  Courtlandt  Beek- 
man  was  announced.  He  had  read  of  the  opera- 
tion of  "  the  Flashlight  Fiend,"  and  believed  that 
if  he  visited  Miss  Lamont  he  could,  in  some  un- 
foreseen way,  be  of  great  service  to  her  in  connec- 
tion with  that  scoundrel. 

Laura  dismissed  Mr.  Stone,  and  went  to  the 
drawing-room  to  receive  Mr.  Beekman. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad  you  came!  You  are  the 
very  man  to  advise  me,"  Laura  exclaimed,  as  she 
returned  the  grasp  of  his  hand.  359 


The   Millionairess 


It  was  on  the  tip  of  his  tongue  to  say,  "  That 
was  what  impelled  me  to  come,"  but  he  restrained 
the  impulse. 

"  We  are  discussing  my  prospect  of  buying  the 
village  tavern,  and  managing  it  in  the  interests 
of  order  and  decency,"  she  said,  "  but  though  the 
subject  has  come  up  between  the  Rev.  Mr.  Stone, 
our  rector,  and  myself  at  least  a  score  of  times, 
he  always  insists  that  he  should  manage  the  re- 
formed saloon,  whereas  I  persist  that  he  cannot 
with  propriety  do  so  —  and  there  we  come  to  a 
block,  every  time." 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it,  please,"  Beekman  said, 
concealing  his  disappointment  that  the  matter  in 
dispute  was  not  what  he  had  imagined. 

She  told  her  story  in  detail,  giving  the  tavern 
its  true  colouring  in  her  picture,  and  explaining 
how  seriously  and  persistently  it  interfered  with 
the  complete  reformation  of  the  village. 

'  There  are  two  courses  open  to  you,"  said 
Beekman,  when  her  recital  ended.  "  You  can 
tear  down  the  present  tavern  and  build  elsewhere 
—  in  a  shady  grove,  by  preference,  a  first-class 
road-house.  The  place  will  then  tempt  a  responsi- 
ble man,  skilled  as  a  caterer,  to  take  charge  of  it. 

360 


The  Millionairess 


To  it  (if  it  has  attractive  dining-rooms,  a  bowling- 
alley,  a  billiard-room,  and  a  good  chef)  will  come 
a  constantly  increasing  number  of  persons  who 
live  within  a  radius  of  ten  or  a  dozen  miles  to 
end  their  drives  with  a  supper  or  dinner,  and  to 
relieve  the  monotony  of  country  cottage  life  with 
a  change  of  fare  and  scene.  You  could  arrange 
that  the  man  in  charge  be  paid  a  salary  for  manag- 
ing the  bar  and  that  he  earn  a  commission  on 
every  sale  of  tea,  coffee,  cocoa,  and  temperance 
drinks  of  every  sort  which  he  might  sell,  giving 
him  also  all  that  he  took  in  from  the  restaurant  — 
he  providing  and  cooking  the  food." 

"  Why,  that  is  very  attractive.  I  wonder  what 
the  alternative  course  will  be,"  Laura  remarked. 

"  The  first  plan  is  open  to  this  objection,"  Beek- 
man  went  on,  "  that  it  will  cause  the  rich  patrons 
of  the  place  to  serve  as  bad  examples  to  the  people 
of  your  village,  who  will  know  that  the  others 
drink  what  they  please  and  sometimes  too  freely. 
Another  bad  thing  about  the  plan  is  that  your 
villagers  will  know  that  the  wealthy  visitors  are 
not  urged  to  take  temperance  drinks,  as  they  are. 
That  will  offend  them,  and  even  stir  them  to  drink 
more  alcohol  than  they  would  take  were  all  the 
customers  treated  alike."  361 


The  Millionairess 


"  I  can  see  that,  of  course,"  Laura  broke  in. 

"  The  alternative  plan  is  the  better  one,  I 
think,"  said  Beekman.  "  That  is  —  why,  who  is 
the  —  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  did  not  mean  to  be 
so  rude." 

While  he  was  speaking  he  saw  a  shadow  fall 
across  the  window,  and,  looking  out,  perceived 
Jack  Lamont  standing  on  the  front  porch,  pre- 
paratory to  stepping  down  into  the  garden. 

"  How  you  startled  me  !  "  Laura  exclaimed. 
"  Do  you  know  him  ?  That  is  my  cousin  John 
Lamont  —  an  invalid,  who  is  here  in  an  effort  to 
regain  his  strength." 

"  No,  again  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  do  not  know 
him.  I  think  he  must  have  startled  me,  also," 
Beekman  replied. 

To  himself  he  said  :  "  That  is  the  man  who  has 
brought  me  here." 

"  The  other  plan,"  he  continued,  "  is  to  put  the 
present  tavern  in  the  charge  of  a  man  on  a  salary, 
with  a  commission,  in  addition,  upon  all  non-in- 
toxicating beverages  he  is  able  to  sell.  That  is 
the  plan  of  the  English  reformers,  and  it  works 
excellently  well.  He  should  be  warned  that  he 
will  be  dismissed  if  he  sells  liquor  to  a  drunkard 

362 


The  Millionairess  H$- 

or  a  minor  or  keeps  his  place  open  after  hours. 
He  should  be  obliged  to  provide  food  in  simple 
forms  in  the  barroom,  and  he  should  be  in  sympa- 
thy with  the  purposes  of  his  employers." 

"  Excellent !   Excellent !  "  Laura  cried. 

"  Yes,  but  not  wholly  so,"  Beekman  answered. 
*'  Whatever  else  you  do,  if  you  buy  out  the  present 
saloon-keeper,  he  will  start  another  place  as  near 
by  as  possible.  You  cannot  buy  the  whole  town- 
ship to  keep  him  out,  you  know.  He  will  have  the 
politicians  behind  him,  and  he  and  they  may  make 
a  great  deal  of  trouble.  It  is  far  better  to  avoid 
all  chance  of  that.  For  my  part,  I  would  hope 
to  decrease  his  business  by  my  own  efforts,  and 
then  to  win  him  over  to  accepting  a  salary  and 
doing  as  I  desired.  Whenever  you  think  the  time 
is  ripe,  if  you  will  let  me  know,  I  will  see  and 
talk  with  him,  and  I  believe  —  for  I  have  seen 
the  man,  and  do  not  think  his  sins  have  any  deeper 
source  than  a  hard  struggle  to  live  —  that  I  can 
convert  him  to  becoming  a  valuable  lieutenant  of 
yours,  especially  if  you  will  be  courteous  and 
friendly  in  your  manner  toward  him." 

"  Thank  you.  Thank  you  ever  so  much," 
Laura  said,  warmly.  "  Mr.  Stone  and  I  have 

363 


The  Millionairess 


been  dreaming  and  planning  dreams.  I  will  cer- 
tainly ask  you  to  help  me,  since  you  are  so  kind 
as  to  make  the  offer." 

"  Miss  Lampnt,"  said  Beekman,  rising  to  take 
his  departure,  "  no,  I  must  go.  I  have  important 
business  in  Fishkill,  which  I  may  as  well  transact 
now  that  I  am  so  near.  Miss  Lamont,  it  is  not 
in  any  such  trifling  way  as  this  that  I  would  be 
of  service  to  you,  if  I  could,  if  —  if  you  would 
encourage  me ;  but  in  every  way,  always,  if  I 
might  have  the  good  fortune  to  earn  your  con- 
fidence." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Beekman,"  Laura  said,  feeling  the 
depth  of  meaning  which  his  tone,  more  than  his 
words,  disclosed.  "  How  can  you-  be  so  kind  to 
me?  How  can  you  have  forgiven  my  wicked 
rudeness  and  ingratitude  on  the  night  of  the 
party  ?  I  am  so  ashamed  —  so  very,  very  much 
ashamed  of  myself." 

"  You  exaggerate  a  very  natural  protest  against 
a  gross  injustice  when  you  say  you  were  rude, 
Miss  Lamont.  Do  you  know,  you  courageous 
and  heroic  fighter  of  life's  great  battle  single- 
handed,  that  in  my  belief  you  and  I  could  never 
quarrel  or  fall  out  of  sympathy?  And  as  for 

364 


The  Millionairess  && 

rudeness,  you  never  could  be  rude  to  any  one,  if 
you  tried." 

He  was  gone,  and  where  he  left  her  she  spent  a 
full  hour  —  the  very  happiest  hour  of  her  life.  He 
had  come  to  call  upon  her.  He!  all  the  way  from 
New  York,  to  call  upon  her!  And  what  had  he 
said  —  and  intended  her  to  understand  ?  Under 
no  construction  could  his  words  be  called  merely 
polite.  Under  the  narrowest  construction  they 
were  —  when  taken  in  conjunction  with  his  tone 
of  voice  —  unquestionably  friendly.  And  almost 
anybody  would  say  they  were  —  loverlike !  Thus 
hugging  to  her  soul  the  fresh  bright  memory  of 
that  short  interview,  Laura  sat  alone  in  the  draw- 
ing-room an  hour,  blushing,  trembling,  smiling, 
dreaming  the  realities  that  were  certain  in  due 
time  to  chase  from  her  maiden  eyes  the  whispering 
mysteries  that  throne  themselves  in  virgin  faces. 

And  he  ?  Before  half  an  hour  had  gone,  he  had 
caught  up  with  Jack  Lament,  and  halted  him  in 
the  road  with  a  request  for  a  light  for  his  cigar. 
In  returning  the  man's  match-box,  he  delayed  its 
delivery,  purposely,  for  a  few  seconds,  during 
which  he  scanned  the  man's  face  narrowly. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  he.  "  Your  name's  John 
Lament?"  365 


The  Millionairess 


11  Yes." 

"  Tell  me,  why  don't  you  go  back  to  New  York 
to-day?" 

"  Well,  upon  my  word  !  "  Lament  answered, 
"  and  will  you  condescend  to  mention  why  I 
should  go  to  New  York  ?  " 

"  Because  you  are  the  '  Flashlight  Fiend/  "  said 
Beekman,  calmly,  but  with  impressive  confidence. 

"  You  mean  that  I  am  your  grandmother,  do 
you  not?"  -Lament  asked.  "My  poor  friend. 
when  did  you  escape  —  and  where  from?  " 

He  tried  to  carry  a  nonchalant  air,  but  his  face 
flushed  and  his  eyes  fell  before  the  honest  man's 
searching  gaze.  He  realised  that  his  manner  was 
betraying  him,  and  he  turned  quickly  to  resume 
his  way  toward  Fishkill. 

"  Will  you  go  to  New  York,  to-day  ;  before  I 
expose  you?"  Beekman  inquired.  To  save  his 
own  right  arm  he  would  not  have  exposed  the 
wretch.  But  he  reasoned  that  Lamont  would  not 
suspect  the  truth. 

"  Seriously,  sir,"  Lamont  replied,  "  if  you  are 
not  insane,  you  certainly  are  mistaken.    Every  one 
around  here  knows  me.     I  am  a  Lamont,  sir  — 
of  the  manor-house  above  here,  and  I  am  a  sick 
man,  barely  able  to  move  about."          366 


The  Millionairess 


"  Will  you  take  five  hundred  dollars,  and  start 
at  once  —  not  to  return  ?  " 

Lamont  was  sorely  tempted,  yet  to  accept  the 
money  was  to  admit  his  guilt.  He  wanted  the 
money  so  badly  that  it  angered  him  to  have  to 
refuse  it. 

"  Mind  your  business,"  he  snarled,  "  and  let 
me  alone.  You  are  mistaken,  I  tell  you." 

"  Will  you  take  a  thousand  dollars,  and  go  at 
once?"  and  Beekman  produced  his  pocket-book 
to  further  tempt  the  scoundrel. 

Lamont  began  to  walk  away. 

"  A  thousand  dollars !  "  Beekman  called  after 
him.  "  Will  you  go  away  for  a  thousand  dollars 
down?" 

"  Go  to "  Lamont  snarled,  and  kept  on  his 

way. 

Courtlandt  Beekman  bit  his  lip  with  vexation. 
He  was  positive  that  he  had  made  no  mistake,  he 
was  equally  certain  that  he  could  not  prove  his  as- 
sertion, and  he  dared  not  risk  a  step  which  might 
bring  annoyance  to  Laura  Lamont,  and  thus  per- 
petrate the  very  injury  he  was  trying  to  prevent. 

Before  a  week  passed  the  "  Flashlight  Fiend  " 
was  at  his  work  again,  and  for  several  weeks  his 

367 


The   Millionairess 


depredations  continued  —  always  being  confined 
to  the  same  limited  sphere.  From  one  young  lady 
in  Powellton  he  took  only  a  silver-buckled  garter, 
from  another  a  necklace,  from  a  third  a  plain  gold 
pin.  Always  and  everywhere  his  thefts  were 
trifling  and  of  the  sort  that  might  be  called  the 
intimate  ornaments  of  his  victims  —  except  in  the 
case  of  Laura  Lamont,  whose  pocket-book  he 
emptied  of  its  contents  in  silver  and  bank-notes. 
The  press  roared  with  sensational  stories  of  his 
polite  speeches,  his  gallant  manners,  and  the  mys- 
tery of  his  identity. 

On  one  afternoon,  Tonette  noticed  the  glint  of 
something  at  the  edge  of  the  hall  carpet,  by  Jack 
Lament's  bedroom  door.  She  picked  up  the  ob- 
ject, which  proved  to  be  a  gold  pin,  very  plain  but 
of  such  fashioning  that  she  suspected  it  to  be 
the  one  that  the  "  Fiend  "  had  contented  himself 
with  taking  from  the  room  of  a  Miss  Viola  Sedg- 
vale,  one  of  the  most  attractive  of  the  belles  of 
Fishkill,  and  the  last  victim  of  the  man's  opera- 
tions. She  took  it  to  her  room  and  examined  it 
carefully,  then  found  a  copy  of  a  newspaper  con- 
taining a  description  of  the  stolen  article.  As- 
sured by  this  that  there  was  ground  for  her  sus- 

368 


The  Millionairess 


picion,  she  was  for  confiding  it  to  Laura,  but,  on 
second  thoughts,  she  determined  first  to  tell  York 
Stone,  and  take  his  advice. 

That  night  the  "  Fiend  "  was  caught. 


369 


XXVII. 

THE  MYSTERIOUS 
BURGLAR    CAUGHT 


'  And  tell  me  what  is  crueller 
Than  a  wicked  woman's  will."  —  Goethe. 


rHERE  had  been  a  small  gathering  of 
friends  at  Harold  Kimball's  house  in 
Fishkill,  and  two  of  the  visitors  remained  after 
midnight,  when  the  party  broke  up.  These  two 
were  Henrietta  Van  Ness,  who  yielded  to  Harold's 
sister's  invitation  to  stay  the  night,  and  a  Mr. 
Blakeley,  of  New  York,  who  remained  to  give 
Mr.  Kimball  what  satisfaction  he  might  for  hav- 
ing beaten  him  at  poker  in  town,  a  few  nights  be- 
fore. At  a  little  after  midnight,  therefore,  we 
find  the  occupants  of  the  house  distributed  as 
follows :  Kimball  and  Blakeley  at  cards  in  a 
middle  room  on  the  ground  floor  —  a  room  with 
only  one  window,  and  that  completely  darkened 
by  outside  shutters  and  heavy  inner  hangings; 
Miss  Van  Ness  dressed  and  gossiping  with  Miss 
Kimball,  who  had  gone  to  bed  in  the  large  room 

370 


The  Millionairess  ne- 

on the  first  floor;  and,  at  the  top  of  the  house,  the 
butler,  three  maids,  and  a  boy  servant,  all  asleep. 
When  the  low  tones  of  the  women's  talk  ceased, 
as  it  did  presently,  the  only  sounds  in  the  house 
were  the  occasional  monosyllabic  utterances  of 
the  men  at  cards  :  "  Raise  you  five,"  "  ten  better," 
"  aces  high,"  and  the  like.  And  this  was  also 
softened  speech,  for  these  men  were  businesslike 
at  poker,  which  was  the  most  serious  business  they 
ever  transacted.  The  best  card-players  in  our 
country,  who  are  of  a  race  and  religion  by  them- 
selves, play  hilariously  because,  with  them,  gam- 
ing is  dissipation  for  the  commercial  instinct 
which  rules  them.  With  Caucasians  it  keeps  its 
commercial  side,  and  is  therefore  apt  to  be  taken 
seriously,  as  all  business  is  with  a  people  primarily 
agricultural.  When  the  Caucasians  are  idle  men 
of  pleasure,  card-playing  brings  the  utmost  mental 
strain  to  which  they  are  subjected.  That  is  one 
reason  why  there  are  no  quieter  places  in  Cau- 
casia than  its  gambling  hells. 

"  You'll  find  that's  a  nice  bed  in  there,"  said 
Miss  Kimball ;  "  it's  warm  as  toast." 

'  Then  I'll  brown  myself  on  both  sides,"  said 
Henrietta.  "  Bon  soir,  ma  chere." 


The  Millionairess 


Henrietta  passed  into  the  adjoining  room  and, 
as  a  brilliant  moon  shone  upon  the  immaculate 
blanket  of  snow  in  the  garden,  she  decided  to  go 
to  bed  without  a  light.  Nevertheless,  an  instinct 
which  women  do  most  to  keep  in  force  in  the 
world  led  her  to  go  to  the  window  to  close  the 
lower  shutters.  As  she  approached  the  window, 
her  eye  caught  a  movement  in  the  garden,  and 
pausing  to  study  it,  she  saw  a  man  advance  from 
a  clump  of  bushes  to  cross  the  snow  upon  the 
lawn.  As  he  walked,  he  turned  to  scan  the  win- 
dows of  the  house  with  a  foxy  glance  which  con- 
sorted with  his  swift  but  careful  steps.  It  was  the 
face  of  Jack  Lamont,  and  she  recognised  it,  for  she 
had  often  seen  him,  though  they  were  not  more 
nearly  acquainted.  When  he  reached  the  farther 
side  of  the  garden  and  the  ladder  which  he  had 
seen  leaning  against  a  tree  there,  he  stopped  and 
studied  the  house  carefully.  He  did  not  see  Hen- 
rietta. 

She  ran  swiftly  back  to  Miss  Kimball's  bed- 
room. 

"  Sh-h-h-h  !  Pauline,  dear  ;  don't  cry  out  —  or 
anything,"  she  whispered.  "  There's  a  man  in 
the  garden,  getting  a  ladder  to  climb  into  one  of 

372 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

these  windows.  It  is  that  Lament  who  used  to 
come  so  often  to  the  Clock  House,  in  the  old 
colonel's  time.  He  is  stopping  there  now  with 
that  little  cat.  I  will  wager  that  he  is  the  notori- 
ous 'Flashlight  Fiend.'  If  he  is,  we  will  have  more 
fun  with  Miss  Lament  than  she  has  had  with 
me." 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  Henrietta!  "  Miss  Kimball 
exclaimed,  leaping  from  the  bed  as  she  spoke, 
"  and  you  so  cool.  Oh,  I'm  going  to  Harry  —  " 

Henrietta  lightly  covered  the  frightened 
woman's  mouth  with  her  hand. 

"  There's  nothing  to  be  frightened  at,"  she  said. 
"  We've  three  men  in  the  house.  I'm  dressed.  I'll 
go  and  get  Harry  and  Mr.  Blakeley.  You  tip- 
toe up  and  wake  your  butler." 

"  I  like  that,"  Miss  Kimball  replied,  speaking 
almost  out  loud.  "  I'll  scream  with  all  my  might, 
if  you  leave  me.  Do  let  me  slip  this  on,  and  keep 
by  you.  I  don't  care  —  I'm  awfully  frightened  — 
and  I  think  you're  perfectly  heartless." 

"  Oh,  do  stop  talking,"  Henrietta  urged. 
"  Come  quickly.  Put  on  your  wrapper,  and 
button  it  as  you  go." 

"  If  I  scream,  he'll  go  away,  Henrietta.  He 

373 


The  Millionairess 


will,  dear.  What  makes  you  care  about  that 
Lamont  girl  ?  Do  let  me  scream." 

Henrietta,  by  way  of  answer,  stooped  and  took 
her  agitated  friend  in  her  arms  and  carried  her 
out,  whispering,  "  Please  be  reasonable.  We 
don't  want  him  to  get  away.  We  want  to  catch 
him."  She  deposited  her  trembling  burden  in 
the  passage,  and  ran  back  to  snatch  the  counter- 
pane from  the  bed.  "  There,"  she  said,  "  wrap 
up  in  that.  Come  along." 

She  dashed  down  the  stairs,  and  her  terrified 
companion  flung  herself  after  her,  tripping  upon 
a  dragging  end  of  the  counterpane,  and  crashing 
down  several  steps  with  a  racket  that  must  have 
all  but  reached  the  ears  of  the  burglar.  Henrietta 
was  at  the  door  of  the  room  where  the  men  were 
at  cards  when  Miss  Kimball  called  to  her  to  stop. 

"  Heaven's  sake!  "  Henrietta  moaned;  "  what 
is  it?" 

"  Please  tell  me  how  I  look  before  the  men  —  " 

"  You  look  like  Sitting  Bull,"  Henrietta  said, 
in  a  whisper,  and  shot  into  the  card-room. 

The  men  followed  her  the  instant  that  they 
grasped  the  news.  When  all  were  in  the  bed- 
room, she  bade  them  stand  behind  the  heavy 
drapery  of  the  windows  and  wait.  374 


The  Millionairess 


"  When  I  turn  on  the  electric  light,"  she  whis- 
pered, "  the  one  who  is  nearest  the  man  must 
jump  on  him.  Pauline,  I'll  get  into  your  bed." 

The  instant  she  did  so,  Miss  Kimball  flung  her- 
self upon  and  around  her,  and  pleaded  to  be 
allowed  to  scream. 

"Hark!"  from  Henrietta;  "there  goes  the 
ladder  against  the  wall.  Oh,  what  luck!  What 
luck!" 

"  I  think  you're  a  devil,"  came  from  between 
Miss  Kimball's  chattering  teeth. 

"  You  ought  to  know,  being  a  woman,  also," 
Henrietta  replied  ;  "  we  are  all  half  woman,  half 
devil,  and  the  devil-half  is  always  on  top  when 
one  of  us  scents  revenge." 

Presently  the  bending  of  the  ladder  was  partly 
felt,  partly  heard,  and  then  Lament's  head  ap- 
peared above  the  outer  sill  with  a  visor,  pierced, 
before  his  eyes,  and  covering  the  upper  half  of 
his  face.  He  was  now  unrecognisable.  Pushing 
up  the  lower  sash,  he  let  himself  into  the  room 
as  softly  as  if  he  had  been  a  cat. 

"  What's  that?  Who's  there?"  Henrietta  called 
out,  rising  upon  one  elbow  in  bed. 

"  A  friend,"  Lament  whispered  ;  "  please  do 
not  be  alarmed."  375 


The  Millionairess 


"  Who  are  you?  "  she  commanded;  "  leave  at 
once.  I  shall  scream." 

"  Why  !  it  is  Miss  Van  Ness  I  am  addressing," 
said  the  burglar,  with  hushed  voice.  "  This  is  an 
unexpected  pleasure.  I  had  meant  to  call  upon 
you  next  week.  I  am  the  gentleman  who  is  col- 
lecting souvenirs  and  portraits  of  the  fair  ladies 
of  this  neighbourhood.  I  give  you  my  word,  you 
need  not  be  frightened.  I  have  never  done  any 
violence,  and  hope  never  to  have  to,  yet  if  you 
attempt  to  raise  an  alarm,  I  must  kill  you." 

"  What  do  you  want  here  ?  Oh,  have  pity  on 
me,  and  go  away,"  Henrietta  wailed,  like  a  skilled 
actress. 

The  man  began  to  approach  the  bed,  taking  a 
chair  with  him,  from  its  place  by  the  window. 

"What?  Miss  Kimball  also?"  he  continued. 
"  I  have  never  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  enter- 
tained by  two  belles  at  once.  I  want  very  little, 
ladies,  —  only  a  trifling  keepsake  ;  a  pin  or  a  bit 
of  ribbon." 

Henrietta  saw  that  he  meant  to  put  his  chair 
down  by  the  head  of  the  bed,  and  that  if  he  did 
so  she  could  not  reach  the  electric  button  which 
was  in  the  wall  beside  the  bed.  Therefore  she 

376 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

determined  to  end  the  farce  and  act  earnestly  at 
once. 

"  Take  another  step  at  your  peril,  Mr.  Lament," 
she  called  aloud,  and,  turning,  wrenched  at  the 
button  and  flooded  the  room  with  light.  Lament 
flung  himself  toward  the  window,  but  was  pin- 
ioned at  the  same  instant  in  the  arms  of  Mr. 
Blakeley,  a  man  of  such  physical  strength  that  he 
knew  resistance  to  be  useless. 

"  Stick  to  him,  Arthur,"  Kimball  called  out. 
"  Can  you  hold  him  while  I  wake  the  servants 
and  send  for  the  police?  " 

"  Take  your  time,"  was  the  calm  answer;  "  I 
can  hold  him  till  next  week." 

"  And  I  can  help  you,  Mr.  Blakeley,  if  it  is 
necessary,"  said  Henrietta,  slipping  out  of  bed 
and  revealing  herself,  to  Lament's  astonishment, 
in  complete  attire. 

"Well  done,"  said  Lament,  bitterly.  "I'm 
trapped  like  a  rabbit.  What  an  ass  I  was !  " 

"  You  should  have  kept  your  pranks  for  that 
little  cat  at  the  Clock  House,  Mr.  John  Lament," 
Henrietta  ventured,  malignantly.  "  Is  she  so  very 
fond  of  you  ?  I've  got  a  good  mind  to  send  and 
have  her  come  and  weep  over  you." 

377 


The  Millionairess 


"Is  this  Arthur  Blakeley  holding  me?"  Lament 
inquired. 

"  Yes." 

"  Arthur,-  old  man,  let  me  go,  will  you  ?  " 

"Can't  do  it,  old  fellow;    awfully  sorry." 

"  I'll  leave  the  country  if  you  will  ;  on  my 
word  of  honour." 

"  Sorry,  old  chap,  but  really  —  you've  brought 
this  on  yourself,  you  know;  it's  your  own  fault." 

"  So  help  me  God,  I  will  not  go  to  prison. 
I'll  kill  myself." 

"  Afraid  you'll  have  to  go,"  said  Blakeley. 
"  You  must  have  known  what  all  this  would  lead 
to." 

Then  Harry  Kimball  was  heard  returning  and 
urging  the  sleepy  butler,  whose  heavy  steps  made 
the  stairs  groan.  Kimball  stood  at  the  door  while 
Blakeley  led  Lamont  out  of  the  bedroom  and 
down-stairs  to  the  library,  where  the  men  had 
been  playing  cards.  There  all  three  sat  down  to 
await  the  coming  of  the  police.  Lament's  quick, 
ingenious  mind  was  busied  with  planning  a  way 
of  escape,  and,  as  his  captors  were  disinclined  to 
talk,  all  three  sat  silently,  Lamont  staring  at  the 
floor  and  the  others  watching  him.  The  prisoner's 

378 


The  Millionairess  &£ 

first  idea  was  to  ask  to  be  left  alone  with  Blakeley 
on  the  ground  that  they  were  old  acquaintances 
and  that  he  wished  to  confide  a  secret  to  him. 
Then  he  meant  to  bolt  from  the  room  and  up 
the  stairs  in  order  to  regain  freedom  by  the  win- 
dow at  which  he  entered.  But  then,  he  thought, 
Kimball  will  stand  outside  the  door  —  why  not 
make  the  dash  while  both  men  were  behind  him ; 
or  kill  them  both,  for  he  was  armed  and  they 
were  not?  Almost  at  the  moment  when  he 
thought  of  murder,  Mr.  Blakeley  asked  him  for 
his  pistol,  and,  to  disarm  suspicion,  he  handed  it 
over  at  once. 

"  I  guess  I'll  have  no  more  use  for  it,"  he  said, 
resolving  then  that  to  bolt  was  the  only  promising 
plan.  "  Give  me  a  cigarette,  Blakeley,  will  you  ? 
I  see  you  have  some  there." 

"  Certainly,  old  chap,"  Blakeley  replied.  "  You 
pour  him  out  a  bracer  of  Scotch,  Kimball,  will 
you?  No  intention  to  treat  you  any  worse  than 
we  have  to." 

Both  turned  their  backs,  and  as  they  did  so 
Lamont  sprang  to  the  door  and  out  of  it,  then  up 
the  stairs.  He  slammed  the  library  door  behind 
him,  but  he  heard  Kimball  opening  it  before  he 

379 


The  Millionairess 


reached  the  head  of  the  stairs.  He  flung  himself 
against  Miss  Kimball's  door  and  —  thanked 
heaven  that  she  had  not  locked  it.  He  crossed  her 
room  to  the  shrill  sound  of  a  blood-curdling 
shriek,  and,  without  stopping  to  walk  down  the 
ladder,  spread  his  legs  and  arms  and  slid  down 
its  sides,  thirteen  feet  to  the  ground.  He  fell 
forward  on  his  hands  and  knees  at  the  bottom, 
and  his  mind  searched  his  body  for  sign  of 
break  or  strain.  There  was  none,  and  he  in- 
stantly gathered  himself  to  regain  his  feet,  but, 
in  that  mere  flash  of  a  second  Arthur  Blakeley, 
who  had  run  around  the  house  from  the  library 
window,  leaped  on  his  back  and  flattened  him, 
face  down,  in  the  snow. 

"  The  reporter  saw  the  prisoner  in  his  cell." 
Thus  began  the  concluding  paragraph  in  the  New 
York  Times  of  the  next  day.  "  He  has  adopted 
a  Cockney  accent,  and  pretends  to  be  a  London 
cracksman,  but  this  is  futile  for  several  reasons. 
He  never  spoke  like  a  cockney  while  engaged  in 
his  burglaries;  moreover,  the  writer  of  this  re- 
port, the  police,  and  many  others,  are  able  to 
swear  that  he  is  the  well-known  man  about  town, 

380 


Millionairess 


Jack  Lamont.  Besides,  he  betrayed  himself  by 
claiming  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Blakeley.  He  is 
thought  never  to  have  taken  any  photographs  after 
all.  When  captured  he  carried  only  a  piece  of 
sheet  iron  encrusted  with  burnt  powder,  and  a 
little  gun-powder  to  burn  upon  it.  He  had  no 
camera.  He  is  said  to  have  told  Arthur  Blakeley 
that  his  unquestionable  aberration  is  a  natural  re- 
sult of  the  life  he  has  led. 

"  '  It's  degeneration,  old  fellow,'  he  said.     '  If 
you  had  not  caught  me,  paresis  would.'  " 


XXVIII. 

DILUTING   A    SENSATION 

"  Boldly  dared  is  won  already."  —  Goeth*. 

ZAURA  LAMONT  complained  of  poor 
health  on  the  night  that  Jack  Lament 
was  captured.  By  morning  a  fiery  fever  had 
developed,  and  this,  with  an  excruciating  head- 
ache, proved  the  beginning  of  a  severe  attack  of 
influenza,  which  was  to  keep  her  invalided  for 
several  weeks  to  come.  The  news  of  Lament's 
arrest  reached  her,  in  brutal  fashion,  while  she 
was  racked  with  pain.  A  note  marked  "  urgent 
and  confidential  "  was  brought  to  her  bedside,  and 
she  opened  and  read  it : 

"  DEAR  Miss  LAMONT  :  —  I  think  when  you 
read  this  you  will  admit  that  more  than  one  per- 
son can  play  at  most  games.  You  used  the 
papers  very  adroitly  to  scandalise  me  in  connec- 
tion with  the  party  at  your  house  last  month. 
Now  I  am  using  them  to  make  public  the  fact 

382 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

that  a  member  of  your  most  interesting  house- 
hold was  caught  at  Mr.  Kimball's  during  the 
night,  while  I  was  visiting  my  friend,  Miss  Kim- 
ball.  That  he  proved  to  be  the  notorious  '  Flash- 
light Fiend  '  of  this  locality  may  not  be  news  to 
one  person,  but  the  press  will  esteem  it  a  matter 
of  the  first  importance.  I  have  already  seen  some 
of  the  reporters;  others  are  coming. 
"  I  am,  my  dear  Miss  Lament, 

:<  Your  always  faithful  friend, 

"H.  V-N." 

The  extreme  depression  of  spirits  which  ac- 
companies severe  influenza  was  strong  upon 
Laura,  and  she  threw  down  the  cruel  letter  with 
a  feeling  of  despondency  as  great  as  if  it  were 
she,  instead  of  her  ne'er-do-well  cousin,  who  had 
been  publicly  disgraced.  Those  who  have  suf- 
fered a  visit  from  that  subtle  foe  whom  the 
French  have  named  La  Grippe  will  not  need 
to  be  told  how  quickly  and  completely  she  surren- 
dered hope  of  ever  outliving  the  disgrace  that, 
in  her  fevered  mind,  already  crushed  her.  Her 
mother  and  Tonette  tried  in  vain  to  cheer  her. 

"  Coming  so  close  upon  the  scandal  of  the 

383 


The  Millionairess 


party,"  she  insisted,  "  every  one  will  believe  the 
worst  that  Miss  Van  Ness  will  insinuate.  I  can 
never  hold  up  my  head  in  either  Powellton  or 
New  York.  The  instant  I  am  well  enough  I 
shall  shut  this  unlucky  house  and  leave  it  for 
ever." 

I  repeat  this  hysterical  speech,  well  knowing 
that,  in  itself,  it  has  no  more  value  than  the 
soughing  of  wind  in  a  forest's  tops.  I  have  dwelt 
a  moment,  also,  upon  the  other  phases  of  her  con- 
dition, understanding  clearly  that  even  to  a  med- 
ical man  they  have  only  commonplace  value.  And 
yet  they  are  worth  our  attention,  because  it  was 
in  this  state  that  she  faced  the  second  climax  of 
her  life,  managing  for  the  moment  to  thrust  aside 
her  illness,  as  women  often  can  and  only  women 
are  able  to  do,  with  a  force  of  will  at  which  the 
bravest  men  in  all  ages  have  marvelled. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  day  after  the  event, 
New  York  settled  itself  in  its  street-cars,  homes, 
hotels,  and  clubs,  to  read  the  accounts  of  Lament's 
capture.  Of  all  the  emotions  it  caused,  and  the 
myriad  comments  it  provoked,  two  alone  are  of 
moment  to  the  reader.  These  were  on  the  part  of 
Mrs.  Percy  Russell  and  of  Courtlandt  Beekman. 

384 


The  Millionairess  *£ 

Mr.  Russell  telephoned  from  his  office  to  his  home 
for  his  wife  to  send  out  for  an  evening  paper  and 
read  the  report.  She  hastened  to  do  so,  and, 
after  a  few  moments  of  reflection,  called  her  hus- 
band to  the  telephone  and  told  him  she  thought 
it  her  duty  to  go  to  Laura  and  be  of  what  service 
she  could.  She  reminded  him  of  how  keenly 
Laura  had  felt  the  previous  invasion  of  her  pri- 
vacy by  the  newspapers,  and  prophesied  that  this 
new  violence  would  leave  her  ill  unless  some  true 
friend  stood  by  her.  In  half  an  hour  she  was 
on  her  way  to  Powellton. 

Beekman  read  the  news  while  on  his  way  down- 
town on  the  elevated  railway.  He  left  the  train 
at  the  first  station,  crossed  the  avenue  and  took 
an  up  train  back  again,  in  order  to  call  upon 
his  sister,  Mrs.  Parmly-Fessenden.  At  that  time 
the  most  select  inner  circle  of  the  fashionable 
world  contained  no  member  more  courted  or 
admired  than  she.  To  the  average  newspaper 
reader  her  name  was  familiar  as  that  of  the  most 
beautiful  woman  of  the  "  Four  Hundred,"  but 
there  were  members  of  that  set  who  thought  this 
verdict  did  her  injustice.  They  knew  that  such 
beauty,  blended  with  her  impressive  dignity  and 

385 


The   Millionairess 


keen  intelligence,  had  not  been  too  highly  praised 
by  Millais  when  he  said  "  the  Greeks  would  have 
made  her  a  goddess,"  nor  by  Daudet,  whom  she 
had  known  very  well,  and  who  had  written,  "  In 
her  presence  I  feel  the  awe  which  queens  too 
seldom  inspire."  In  her  high-bred  air  of  repose, 
her  pride  of  mien  and  manner,  in  her  taste  and 
tact,  she  was  so  equipped  that  what  it  was  de- 
clared that  the  Greeks  would  have  done  already 
suggested  the  estimate  at  which  she  was  valued 
by  those  who  knew  her  best.  To  her  went  her 
brother,  in  trepidation  lest  she  should  be  away 
from  home,  and  found  her  finishing  her  lunch. 

"  Courtlandt  !  "  exclaimed  his  sister.  "  I  was 
not  expecting  this  pleasure." 

"  No,  Clara,"  he  said,  kissing  her  cheek  as 
she  held  her  face  up  for  the  salutation  ;  "I 
came  upon  a  sudden  resolution.  I  hope  I  am  not 
de  trop." 

"Never,  Courtlandt;    how  could  you  be?" 
"  You  were  not  going  out  —  or  expecting  any 
one?" 

"  No;   I  am  wholly  at  your  service." 
"  I  have  spoken  to  you  about  Miss  Lamont, 
Clara." 

386 


The   Millionairess  H£ 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  though  I  have  learned  more 
from  what  you  have  not  said  than  from  the  little 
you  have.  Have  you  met  her  again  ?  No  ?  But 
she  interests  you  as  much  as  ever;  and  that  is  a 
very  great  deal,  I  know.  I  wish  I  had  regarded 
her  more  closely  when  I  saw  her  that  day  in 
Rhinebeck.  I  only  remember  how  very  blond 
she  was,  and  that  I  admired  her  girlish  figure  and 
frank  and  intelligent  face.  Don't  grudge  me  the 
whole  truth,  Courtlandt,  because  I  am  sure  that 
when  you  take  such  a  fancy  it  is  apt  to  be  — 
serious,  as  we  say.  I  shall  be  out  to  whoever 
calls,  and  you  shall  have  the  whole  afternoon. 
You  know  that  any  such  case  is  of  the  first  in- 
terest to  every  woman,  so  you  may  imagine  what 
this  is  to  me  from  a  brother  who  has  so  long 
avoided  his  fate." 

"  Thank  you,  Clara,"  he  said;  "  I  am  going  to 
impose  on  your  kindness  by  asking  you  to  go 
with  me  to  pay  a  visit  to  Miss  Lament,  simply  to 
make  her  acquaintance.  She  and  I  are  in  pre- 
cisely that  status,  by  the  way,  so  that  I  have  no 
romantic  revelations  to  make."  . 

"  I  will  go,"  Mrs.  Fessenden  said,  "  and  with 
pleasure,  if  it  is  to  oblige  you." 

387 


The  Millionairess 


"  But  she  is  at  her  home  near  Fishkill,  and  I 
am  very  much  in  hopes  you  can  go  directly  and 
stay  over  night." 

"  Oh  !  I  do  not  see  how  I  can,"  she  exclaimed, 
but  a  great  change  of  the  expression  of  his  face 
caused  her  to  alter  her  mind.  "  Yes,  what  I 
thought  of  doesn't  matter.  I  will  go." 

She  rose  and  went  over  to  him  to  stoop  and 
kiss  his  brow. 

"  You  are  very  anxious,  aren't  you,  Court- 
landt  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Come,  tell  me  what  makes 
you  so.  I  would  not  presume  to  advise  you,  nor 
will  I  criticise  whatever  you  tell  me  you  are  bent 
upon  doing.  I  will  simply  help  you  to  the  extent 
of  my  power." 

"  You  are  as  good  as  gold,  Clara.  I  will  tell 
you  all  the  details  on  the  cars.  Can  you  get 
ready  in  half  an  hour,  and  drive  to  the  Grand 
Central  Depot?  I  will  be  there.  I  must  first 
telegraph  that  we  are  coming.  Miss  Lament  has 
had  an  invalid  cousin  staying  with  her  —  a  well- 
known  man  about  town.  He  proves  to  be  the  sen- 
sational burglar  -who  photographs  his  victims  — 
about  whom  so  much  has  been  published;  you 
know." 

388 


The   Millionairess  H$- 

"  I  have  heard  some  one  speak  of  the  case," 
she  replied.  "  How  very  extraordinary !  He  is 
insane,  of  course." 

"  He  has  been  caught  in  the  house  of  that 
Kimball  who  is  engaged  to  Henrietta  Van  Ness 
—  in  her  room,  while  she  was  visiting  Kimball's 
sister." 

"  How  very  shocking !  "  said  Mrs.  Fessenden. 
"  And  how  very  dreadful  for  poor  Miss  Lament. 
But  isn't  this  rather  an  odd  moment  to  choose  for 
my  visit?  Will  she  see  either  of  us?  Will  she 
be  able  to,  indeed?  " 

"  That  is  immaterial.  I  will  tell  you  every- 
thing on  the  train,  and  I'm  sure  you  will  agree 
with  me.  In  a  word,  this  is  my  idea :  You  remem- 
ber that  I  told  you  of  those  music  hall  people 
at  Henrietta  Van  Ness's  party  given  at  Miss 
Lament's  house?  I  showed  you  that  paragraph 
about  it  in  Society  Talk.  Well,  Clara,  I  assure 
you  that  whole  affair  was  such  a  blow  to  her 
pride  and  her  sensitive  nature  that  it  was  cruel 
merely  to  witness  her  suffering.  This  will  affect 
her  ten  times  as  much.  The  first  affair  will  be 
raked  over  and  exaggerated,  unless  we  prevent  it, 
and  she  will  experience  an  ordeal  to  which  no 
innocent  girl  should  be  subjected."  389 


The  Millionairess 


"  We  prevent  it  ?     You  and  I?     How?" 

"  By  simply  being  at  the  house  when  the  re- 
porters call  there  this  afternoon." 

"  But,  my  dear  Courtlandt,"  Mrs.  Fessenden 
exclaimed,  in  genuine  alarm.  "  I  cannot  see  the 
reporters.  I  shouldn't  know  —  really  — 

"  Good  gracious,  Clara  !  I  am  not  insane.  I 
merely  want  you  to  be  there,  and  them  to  know 
that  you  are  there  with  me.  Miss  Lament  and 
I,  if  she  is  able,  will  see  the  reporters;  if  not,  I 
will.  And  when  they  leave  that  house  they  will 
take  away  the  impression  that  that  household 
knows  less  and  is  less  concerned  about  their 
'  huge  sensation  '  than  any  other  people  in  the 
country.  They  will  believe  that  the  routine  of 
life  is  undisturbed  there,  and  that  the  matter  of 
chief  moment  to  Miss  Lamont  is  the  entertain- 
ment of  her  friends." 

"  Really,  Courtlandt,  your  going  will  be  suffi- 
cient, then,  and  I  would  rather  see  Miss  Lamont 
under  more  agreeable  circumstances." 

"  You  don't  understand,  Clara,"  said  Beek- 
man.  "  I  promise  to  make  it  clear  when  there  is 
time,  on  the  cars.  Don't  you  see,  the  Van  Ness 
girls  have  been  bitter  enemies  of  the  poor  girl 

390 


The  Millionairess  *fr 

ever  since  Society  Talk  presented  her  side  of  the 
affair  of  the  party?  They  will  defame  her  if 
it  is  in  their  power.  The  meagre  reports  in  the 
afternoon  papers  warn  me  what  to  expect  to- 
morrow —  and  it  will  be  diabolical.  It  is  you 
who  can  prevent  this,  because  if  you  are  her 
guest  every  effort  to  harm  her  reputation  must  fall 
flat.  Don't  you  see  ?  I'm  of  no  consequence ;  it's 
you  whose  presence  will  save  her." 

"  I  understand,"  Mrs.  Fessenden  replied. 
"  Well,  if  such  a  little  thing  will  curb  the  sensa- 
tional papers  it  will  be  wonderful,  but  that  ren- 
ders it  all  the  better  worth  trying.  In  half  an 
hour,  then,  I  will  be  on  the  way  to  the  station." 

Laura  received  the  announcement  of  the  in- 
tended visit  while  she  was  feebly  welcoming  Helen 
Russell. 

"  We  can  but  wire  them  not  to  come,"  said 
that  well-meaning  lady ;  "  only  fancy  sending  the 
peerless  Mrs.  Fessenden  about  her  business !  But 
that  is  precisely  what  I  shall  have  to  do." 

"  He  cannot  know  what  has  happened  or  he 
would  not  come.  He  will  never  think  of  me  when 
he  knows,"  Laura  moaned  from  her  bed. 

"  Well,"  continued  Mrs.  Russell,  in  ignorance 

391 


The  Millionairess 


of  the  sentimental  light  in  which  her  companion 
had  viewed  Mr.  Beekman  ever  since  the  first  of  the 
few  occasions  on  which  she  had  seen  him,  "  it  is 
going  to  be  a  testing  of  all  your  friends,  and  if 
he  is  one  who  cannot  stand  the  trial,  the  sooner 
you  know  it  the  better." 

"  I  cannot  see  his  sister,"  Laura  said.  "  My 
head  is  fairly  splitting.  I  hope  the  doctor  will 
arrive  before  he  comes.  I  may  only  be  able  to 
sit  up  a  few  minutes,  —  scarcely  long  enough  to 
be  barely  polite,  I  fear." 

"Is  he  nice,  dear?"  Mrs.  Russell  asked,  for 
Laura's  decision  to  leave  a  sick-bed  to  receive  a 
caller  aroused  a  suspicion  of  the  truth  in  her 
mind.  With  a  clever  woman's  skill  she  shot 
forth  the  one  question  most  likely  to  produce  a 
betrayal  if  anything  were  being  hidden.  "  I 
thought  him  very  handsome  that  night  at  the 
'  Boozers.'  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  Laura  groaned.  "  He's  the  hand- 
somest man  in  all  the  world.  It  kills  me  to  talk, 
Helen.  As  handsome  as  Apollo  —  but  that's 
nothing,  because  he  is  so  much  nicer  than  he 
looks;  so  kind  and  gentle,  and  yet,  you  know, 
so  commanding-." 

392 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

"  Oho !  So  sits  the  wind !  "  thought  Helen 
Russell.  "  Don't  try  to  talk,  dear.  Hark!  there's 
the  doctor's  carriage." 

The  doctor  prescribed  for  the  allaying  of  the 
fever  and  headache,  and  ordered  a  tonic  for  her 
system,  leaving  also  a  command  that  she  have 
perfect  rest  and  quiet. 

Beekman  and  his  sister  were  met  in  the  draw- 
ing-room by  Mrs.  Russell,  looking  grave,  regret- 
ful, but  very  firm.  Soberly,  reluctantly,  yet  very 
tenaciously,  she  endeavoured  to  turn  the  distin- 
guished couple  back  from  their  purpose  by  assur- 
ing them  that  Miss  Lament  was  seriously  ill. 
She  might  as  well  have  asked  Gibraltar  to  .declare 
itself  a  Spanish  rock.  Brother  and  sister  both 
utterly  failed  to  catch  the  ulterior  suggestion  in 
everything  she  said.  They  replied  that  they  were 
not  surprised,  they  had  feared  they  might  find 
her  indisposed,  they  would  be  impatient  until  they 
heard  the  doctor's  report  after  his  next  call  in 
the  evening.  Mrs.  Russell  was  puzzled  and  dis- 
tressed. She  had  all  but  put  it  in  so  many  words 
that  they  could  not  stay ;  still  .they  did  not  catch 
her  meaning.  There  was  nothing  left  but  to  in- 
troduce Tonette,  who  might  shock  so  conventional 

393 


The  Millionairess 


a  person  as  Mrs.  Parmly-Fessenden,  yet  who 
could  be  relied  upon  to  state  the  case  with  the 
force  and  directness  which  characterises  a  bullet's 
course. 

"  May  I  inquire  to  whom  we  are  speaking  ?  " 
Beekman  inquired. 

"  I  am  Mrs.  Russell,  a  friend  of  Miss  La- 
mont's." 

"  Are  you  the  wife  of  my  friend,  Mr.  Percy 
Russell?" 

"  My  husband  is  the  architect,"  Helen  ex- 
plained. 

"  Then,  as  he  and  I  are  old  friends,"  said  Beek- 
man, "  and  as  you  and  I  are  both  members  of  the 
Boozers'  Club,  I  am  going  to  be  frank  with  you, 
and  explain  why  we  are  here  and  why  I  hope  we 
may  stay." 

He  set  the  case  forth  to  her  in  a  few  sentences, 
yet  so  clearly  that  her  face  grew  brighter  for 
each  link  of  his  argument.  She  put  herself  in 
Laura's  place  as  she  listened,  and  when  he  had 
finished  she  thanked  him  from  the  bottom  of  her 
heart  —  and  thanked  his  sister,  also,  though  much 
less  effusively  because  she  was  of  her  own  sex. 
She  gave  orders  to  have  their  things  taken  up 

394 


The  Millionairess  *6 

at  once,  and  she  accompanied  Mrs.  Fessenden  to 
the  best  chamber,  from  which  the  miscreant 
Lament's  belongings  had  already  been  removed. 
When  a  chance  offered,  she  flew  to  Laura's  bed- 
side and  told  her  that  Mr.  Beekman  was  "  too 
nice  for  anything,"  and  that  his  sister  possessed 
in  her  one  heart  all  the  humanity  and  kindness 
needed  to  equip  the  entire  Four  Hundred,,  with 
more  of  the  same  effervescent  and  geyser-like 
nature.  As  a  peroration,  she  explained  why  the 
brother  and  sister  were  there.  "  To  silence  scan- 
dal, darling,  and  thwart  that  detestable  Van  Ness 
tiger-cat,"  she  said.  "  I  declare  the  man  is 
Napoleonic." 

The  first  few  reporters  who  called  were  asked 
to  return  with  all  the  others  who  were  "  working 
up  the  case  "  at  six  o'clock  in  the  evening.  Laura 
came  down  dressed  as  for  an  evening  party,  and 
looking  her  best;  perhaps  better  than  she  had 
ever  appeared,  so  rosy  had  the  scorch  of  fever 
turned  her  cheeks,  so  brilliant  was  the  cruel  light 
it  shot  through  her  eyes.  Mrs.  Russell  begged 
her  to  go  back  to  her  bed,  and  Beekman,  though 
he  found  it  hard  to  believe  she  was  ill  until  he 
took  her  burning  hand  in  his.  also  pleaded  with 

395 


The  Millionairess 


her  not  to  risk  a  more  serious  sickness.  She  was 
introduced  to  Mrs.  Fessenden,  whose  good-will 
she  quickly  won  by  her  bright  manner  and  art- 
less nature.  The  reporters  were  even  more  easily 
captivated.  She  told  them  she  had  seen  very 
little  of  her  cousin,  and  could  not  offer  much  to 
gratify  their  curiosity.  They  read  to  her,  with 
their  own  ends  in  view,  their  interviews  with 
Henrietta  Van  Ness  —  full  of  insinuations  and 
innuendoes  unworthy  even  such  a  source  —  but 
they  apologised  as  they  did  so,  and  assured  Laura 
that  her  statement  rendered  it  unlikely  that  any 
reputable  newspaper  would  devote  much  space  to 
gossip  so  evidently  malicious. 

The  presence  of  the  celebrated  hunter,  explorer, 
and  author  deeply  impressed  these  young  men, 
whose  entire  guild  held  him  in  high  esteem, 
valuing  him  for  the  frequent  good  "  copy  "  his 
life  provided,  and  esteeming  him  for  his  romantic 
adventures,  which  they  exaggerated,  and  with  the 
halo  of  which  he  was  wholly  enveloped  in  their 
mind.  Eagerly  they  took  note  of  his  presence,  and 
of  that  of  his  sister,  and  after  the  ladies  had  left 
the  room  they  lingered  to  talk  with  him.  When  he 
bade  good-night  to  the  last  one,  he  felt  no  anxiety 

396 


The  Millionairess  %& 

with  regard  to  the  form  the  news  would  take  in 
the  morning  papers.  He  knew  that  the  reports 
would  all  agree  in  declaring  Jack  Lament  par- 
tially insane,  and  to  that  extent  irresponsible  for 
his  actions.  Of  the  culprit's  infirmity  of  mind 
Beekman  felt  himself  safe  in  assuring  the  re- 
porters that  ample  proof  would  be  forthcoming. 

Laura  presided  at  that  night's  dinner  in  her 
home  and  never  appeared  to  greater  advantage. 
This  was  her  heroism.  To  be  so  ill,  in  such 
exquisite  pain,  to  feel  such  utter  despondency 
through  the  knowledge  that  her  cousin  had 
brought  public  disgrace  upon  her  —  to  feel  all 
this,  and  yet  to  thrust  it  aside  and  preside  at  her 
table  (before  him  whom  she  ranked  first  among 
men)  as  if  in  perfect  poise,  —  what  man  lives  who 
could  have  done  this  ?  Even  among  women,  how 
few  could  have  done  it  so  well. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  dinner  the  doctor  re- 
turned and,  with  alarm  and  indignation,  com- 
manded her  to  return  to  her  bed.  Her  guests  took 
side  against  her  and,  when  Beekman  and  his  sis- 
ter threatened  to  go  back  to  New  York  unless  she 
obeyed  her  physician,  she  reluctantly  yielded. 
Beekman  offered  his  arm  with  courtly  formality 

397 


The   Millionairess 


to  escort  her  from  the  dining-room.  Once  in  the 
hall,  she  tremblingly  asked  him  to  allow  her  to 
keep  his  arm  until  they  had  mounted  the  stairs. 
In  the  upper  hall,  where  they  were  alone  for  a 
moment,  she  confessed  that  she  was  very  ill  and 
so  low-spirited  as  to  fancy  she  had  not  long  to 
live,  or,  indeed,  much  to  live  for. 

"  Try  to  remember  for  one  year  what  you  are 
saying  now,"  said  he.  "  Shall  I  write  it  down 
and  save  it,  to  show  to  you  in  twelve  months? 
How  we  will  laugh  over  it,  then." 

"  No,  no  ;  I  cannot  joke  about  it.  I  am  in 
earnest.  I  know  that  I  shall  never  be  strong  or 
of  much  use  again." 

"  And  yet  I  would  try  to  recover  if  I  were  you," 
Beekman  said,  still  making  light  of  her  despond- 
ency. "  There  are  a  few  little  trifles  that  need 
your  care;  your  villagers,  you  know;  and  that 
wicked  tavern  which  will  work  havoc  if  you  neg- 
lect to  watch  it.  And,  then  again,  there  is  another 
trifle  in  which  I  am  deeply  interested  that  needs 
your  interest.  I  would  plead  for  it  if  I  dared." 

"Why,  what  is  it?" 

"  Myself,  Miss  Lamont." 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  she  said. 

398 


The  Millionairess  t* 

"  I  would  plead  that  you  might  take  an  interest 
—  ever  so  much  or  ever  so  little,  as  you  will,  in 
me  and  in  my  life." 

"  Oh,  I  do,  I  do,"  said  Laura.  "  How  rude  I 
have  been  not  to  tell  you  before  this  how  deeply 
I  appreciate  the  great  kindness  you  have  done  me 
to-day.  I  am  sincere.  I  want  to  call  you  —  to 
your  face  —  my  friend.  No  other  in  all  the  world 
has  been  so  kind  to  me." 

"  Miss  Lament,"  said  he,  gravely,  "  in  that  I 
am  only  selfish.  I  have  tried  to  win  your  grati- 
tude —  because  —  I  love  you.  Am  I  wrong  to 
tell  you  now  ?  I  love  you.  I  came  to  your  party 
solely  to  be  near  you.  I  have  come  to-night  for 
the  same  reason ;  to  be  with  you  and  to  show  you 
that  I  love  you." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Beekman!  You  are  cruel!  Don't—" 
she  almost  gasped,  out  of  her  surprise  and  her 
distorted  view  of  the  honour  he  paid  her. 

"  I  have  never  loved  any  other  woman  —  and 
never  shall,"  he  whispered.  "  May  I  hope  to  win 
your  love?  " 

"  I  am  not  worthy  of  so  much,"  she  said,  and, 
staggering  against  him,  hid  her  face  on  his  breast. 
He  put  an  arm  about  her  and  kissed  her. 

And  to  him  this  was  a  covenant.      399 


XXIX. 

A   MESSAGE   FOR 
BRYAN  CROSS 

"  A  thousand  fantasies  .  .  . 
Of  calling,  shapes  and  beckoning  shadows  dire." —  "  Comus." 

rO  the  surprise  of  Laura,  who  fancied  that 
Mrs.  Fessenden's  pride  and  dignity  be- 
tokened a  shell-clad  heart,  that  lady  spent  an 
hour  or  more  of  the  next  morning  by  the 
invalid's  bedside,  soothing  her  with  hopeful,  sym- 
pathetic talk,  administering  her  medicine,  fre- 
quently altering  the  position  of  her  pillows  to 
maintain  her  comfort,  and,  in  manifold  ways,  ex- 
hibiting the  genius  of  an  instinctive  nurse. 

"  Courtlandt  has  whispered  to  me  that  he  hopes 
we  are  to  become  sisters;  I  am  so  glad,  dear!  " 
she  whispered. 

"  No,  no !  "  Laura  cried  from  the  depths  of 
the  melancholia  that  possessed  her;  "it  is  only 
sympathy,  not  love,  that  he  feels  for  me.  I  will 
tell  him  —  when  I  am  better.  I  can  bring  him 
nothing  but  misfortune." 

400 


The   Millionairess  HS- 

"  That  is  not  kind,"  said  Mrs.  Fessenden.  "  I 
know  that  he  has  loved  you  since  the  moment  he 
first  saw  you.  It  was  your  low  spirits  that  spoke 
then,  not  the  brave,  high-spirited  girl  whom  he 
loves  so  very  deeply.  Be  sure  he  will  never 
change,  dear  Laura.  I  am  so  glad.  You  are  a 
little  witch,  dear.  You  exact  love  from  all  who 
ever  see  you.  Will  you  not  try  to  love  me,  also, 
and  let  us  be  like  sisters?  " 

A  hysterical  attack  of  crying  was  all  the  answer 
Laura  could  give. 

Mr.  Beekman  took  his  sister  back  to  the  city 
that  afternoon,  leaving  Mrs.  Russell  to  wait  upon 
Laura,  with  Tonette's  help,  until  he  could  send  a 
trained  nurse.  With  infinite  trouble  that  nurse 
was  selected  by  his  going  to  house  after  house, 
and  calling  up  physician  after  physician  on  the 
telephone,  until  he  had  learned  the  names  of  three 
or  four  nurses  who  were  declared  to  be  amiable 
and  ladylike  as  well  as  skilful.  Having  found 
such  an  one  who  was  disengaged,  he  went  with 
her  to  Powellton.  He  installed  himself  at  the 
village  hotel,  and  remained  there  a  month,  going 
to  the  Clock  House  three  times  a  day  during  the 
fortnight  of  Laura's  confinement  to  her  room, 

401 


The   Millionairess 


and  spending  every  afternoon  with  her  afterward 
when  she  was  able,  first,  to  come  down  to  the 
common  rooms  of  the  house,  and  afterwards,  to 
drive  out  with  him. 

Sensational  recitals  of  the  nocturnal  exploits 
of  the  pervert,  Jack  Lament,  filled  broadsides  of 
the  newspapers  for  several  days,  and  during  that 
time  it  was  a  labour  of  love  to  Beekman  to  make 
certain  that  neither  printed  word  nor  gossip 
about  the  case  reached  the  invalid's  room.  Her 
miserable,  morally  wrecked  cousin  was  declared 
insane,  and  removed  to  an  asylum.  And  there, 
at  last,  the  curtain  fell  upon  that  repellent  scene 
in  the  outskirts  of  our  heroine's  life,  never  to  be 
raised  again. 

On  one  afternoon,  while  Laura  was  still  very 
weak  and  confined  to  her  bed,  Tonette  ran  down 
the  garden  path  to  meet  Beekman  among  the  trees 
and  speak  to  him  before  he  entered  the  house. 
She  had  been  at  an  upper  window  watching  for 
him. 

"  You've  heard  of  the  Rev.  Bryan  Cross?  "  she 
called. 

"  Good-afternoon,  Tony  ;  yes,  I've  heard  of 
him." 

402 


The  Millionairess  H* 

"  He's  a  friend  of  Miss  Laura's,  you  know. 
Well,  he's  in  there.  I've  got  him  corralled  in  the 
library,  with  the  butler  at  the  door  and  the  groom 
on  the  first  landing,  to  throw  him  if  he  tries  to 
stampede.  He  allows  he's  got  to  see  Miss  Laura. 
He  says  it's  a  matter  of  life  and  death,  and  that 
sort  of  foolish  talk.  I've  told  him  he  can  go  up 
when  the  doctor  comes,  and  he's  waiting.  I'm 
a-scared  of  him  —  he's  so  queer.  Mr.  Beekman, 
he's  got  wheels;  the  real  kind  that  belongs  in 
an  'sylum.  Any  minute,  he's  liable  to  break  a 
trace  and  bust  right  into  Miss  Laura's  room, 
and  that'll  kill  her." 

"  I  declare,  Tony,  I'm  glad  you  found  me," 
Beekman  said.  "  We'll  give  him  the  wrong 
scent,  somehow,  as  your  father  would  say." 

"  Like  paw  would  say  ?  Like  he  does,  I  reckon 
you  mean,  whenever  a  tenderfoot  blows  in  the 
hotel.  Wouldn't  you  like  to  see  paw,  though? 
Bet  I  would.  I  don't  reckon  you  care,  though,  — 
'cause  you're  trailing  something  better  than  elk 
just  now,  ain't  you,  Mr.  Beekman?"  And  To- 
nette  bounded  out  of  his  reach,  with  a  laugh  at 
her  own  impudence. 

When  Beekman  went  into  the  library  he  almost 

403 


The  Millionairess 


fancied  it  an  optical  illusion  that  the  man  who 
rose  and  advanced  with  a  hesitating,  questioning 
air  should  be  so  startlingly  like  the  Hamlet  of 
the  greatest  American  tragedian  of  a  recent  day. 
Cross  had  the  same  height  and  thinness,  the  same 
facial  pallor  and  long  black  hair;  and,  in  the  half 
darkness,  his  black  clothing  appeared  in  keeping 
with  the  weird  suggestion.  It  was  as  if  he  was 
Hamlet  leaving  Horatio's  side  and  advancing 
cautiously  to  question  his  father's  ghost. 

"  Mr.  Cross,  I  think.  I  am  Courtlandt  Beek- 
man,  at  your  service.  I  am  asked  to  see  you  on 
behalf  of  Miss  Lamont."  f 

"  Why  do  I  see  everybody  else  ?  I  want  to  see 
her,"  Cross  said,  peevishly.  His  voice  trembled 
like  that  of  a  very  sick  man,  and  his  utterance 
was  thick.  A  lean  yellow  hand  went  trembling, 
first  to  his  chin  and  then  to  push  back  his  jet 
hair  where  it  had  fallen  over  one  of  his  ears. 

"  It's  too  bad,"  Beekman  replied,  "  but  you 
cannot  see  her.  She  is  ordered  to  be  kept  per- 
fectly quiet." 

"When  will  she  die?"  Cross  inquired,  with 
a  gleam  of  cunning  in  his  eyes  and  a  confidential 
tone  of  voice.  He  was  repellently  eager.  "  Is 
it  to  be  to-day  ?  "  404 


The  Millionairess  && 

"  She's  not  going  to  die,"  Beekman  answered. 
"  She's  only  ill  of  influenza." 

"  Don't  trifle,"  said  Cross,  petulant  again;  "  I 
know  she  is  going  to  die.  That  is  why  I  have 
come.  I  must  see  her  first.  It  is  the  chance  of 
my  life.  Life,  did  I  say  ?  It's  the  only  hope  for 
my  soul." 

"  Please  sit  down,  sir,"  said  Beekman.  "  Now, 
then,  tell  me  quite  calmly,  why  you  want  to  see 
her." 

"  Don't  you  know  ?  "  Cross  inquired.  "  Every 
one  knows.  You  see,  when  my  sister  died,  I  did 
not  ask  her  to  send  me  word  from  the  other  shore. 
I  meant  to,  but  I  didn't  —  didn't  dare.  I  thought, 
too,  that  as  we  had  always  known  each  other's 
thoughts,  she  must  divine  my  wish.  As  she  had 
been  my  best  friend,  another  self  to  me,  I  felt 
certain  she  would  know  my  peril  without  being 
told.  And  if  she  is  in  heaven  she  must  know 
now;  why  doesn't  she  speak  to  me?  What  do 
you  think?  Isn't  that  alone  sufficient  to  raise 
doubts?  She  has  been  dead  for  months  and 
sends  me  no  word.  I  tried  to  travel,  but  "  —  here 
the  cunning  look  crept  back  into  his  eyes,  as  he 
put  a  limp  finger  up  to  his  trembling  lips  —  "  but 

405 


The  Millionairess 


I  saw  I  had  better  be  back  in  her  bedroom.  There 
is  where  she  will  come  to  tell  me;  that  is,  she 
will,  if  there  is  a  hereafter.  Oh,  why  doesn't  she 
come?  I  am  so  worn  with  waiting." 

"  You  want  a  proof  that  there  is  a  hereafter?  " 
Beekman  replied,  inquiringly. 

"How  else  can  I  preach?"  Cross  pleaded. 
"My  God,  how  else  can  I  live?  She  almost 
cursed  me  for  my  doubts,  which  I  tried  so  hard 
to  conceal.  After  she  died,  she  came  to  me  in 
the  pulpit,  and  charged  me  with  being  a  coward 
—  a  quack.  Every  night  I  pray  for  tidings  of 
her  when  three  months  shall  have  gone.  That 
will  be  on  this  coming  Friday,  you  see." 

"  Then  you're  all  right  as  rain,  aren't  you  ?  " 

:'  Yes,  if  there  is  another  life  I  can  hear  from 
her  and  I  can  return  to  my  pulpit,"  said  the 
wretched  man,  talking  on,  as  if  mechanically. 
"  But  suppose  she  does  not  communicate  —  can 
not,  for  some  reason.  That  will  prove  nothing. 
I've  been  -thinking  of  that.  I  must  have  other 
friends  where  she  has  gone;  so,  lately,  I've  been 
among  the  poor  and  have  found  three  who  were 
dying,  —  two  women  and  a  man.  I  got  them  to 
promise  to  tell  me  quickly,  after  they  died,  but 

406 


The  Millionairess  #k 

they  have  not  spoken  or  made  a  sign,  though  two 
have  been  dead  a  fortnight.  They  were  not  my 
friends,  after  all,  and  other  things  may  be  dis- 
tracting them  from  thoughts  of  me.  It  will  not 
be  so  with  Miss  Lamont.  She  is  my  friend.  On 
her  and  my  sister  I  must  put  my  chief  reliance; 
don't  you  think  so?  For  pity's  sake,  let  me 
see  her;  she  is  too  good  to  leave  a  soul  in  such 
a  hell  of  doubt." 

Beekman  managed  the  unhappy  man  adroitly, 
so  as  to  arouse  neither  his  suspicion  nor  combat- 
iveness.  He  pretended  to  carry  Cross's  message 
to  the  invalid's  bedside,  from  which  he  affected 
to  return  with  the  word  that  Miss  Lamont  re- 
gretted the  necessity  for  disappointing  her  old 
friend,  yet  was  obliged  to  insist  that  she  was  not 
in  a  way  to  die ;  a  gravely  funny  message  whose 
humour  wholly  escaped  the  excited  visitor. 

This  assurance  had  to  be  strengthened  by  many 
repetitions  and  variations  before  the  distracted 
clergyman  would  accept  it.  At  last,  he  was 
spurred  to  abandon  his  design,  upon  Beekman's 
suggestion  that  he  should  be  away  looking  about 
New  York  for  some  other,  more  expeditious 
messengers. 

407 


The  Millionairess 


"  Well,  it  looks  as  though  I  had  deceived  my- 
self," Cross  said,  with  infinite  weariness  in  his 
voice.  "I  do  not  want  her  to  die;  that  would 
be  cruel  —  but  if  she  should  change  for  the  worse, 
do  get  her  promise  for  me.  The  notices  of  her 
life  in  the  papers  put  it  in  my  head  that  the 
editors  had  secret  word  that  she  was  dying,  and 
I  fancied  God  meant  her  to  be  His  messenger  to 
me.  I  have  lived  under  this  strain  ever  since  I 
left  college  ;  I  can  wait  till  Friday  for  my  sister's 
message,  but  not  much  longer." 

Beekman  walked  with  him  to  the  Fishkill  sta- 
tion, and  did  not  bid  him  good-bye  until  he  had 
seen  him  seated  in  a  moving  train  for  New  York. 

On  the  morning  of  the  following  Sunday,  the 
papers  contained  the  news  of  his  release  from 
suffering.  He  was  found  upon  his  back  on  the 
floor  of  the  bedroom  in  which  his  sister  died. 
It  was  evident  that  he  had  been  writing  in  his 
diary  and  had  fallen  from  a  chair,  which  was 
found  overturned  in  front  of  the  little  white  desk. 
What  he  had  written  was  published  in  all  the 
newspapers,  and  commented  upon  as  mysterious. 
The  madness  it  betrayed  was  evident,  but  its 
source  was,  happily  for  his  memory,  far  less 
apparent.  4°8 


The  Millionairess  H£ 

"  The  time  has  come,  and  my  sensations  ap- 
prise me  that  the  message  will  soon  be  delivered. 
At  times,  I  think  it  will,  in  some  way,  be  spoken 
within  me,  for  my  head  feels  bursting,  swollen, 
under  awful  internal  pressure. 

"  The  air  is  full  of  murmuring  voices  and  pul- 
sates with  waves  of  soft  light  which  strengthen 
and  quicken  as  the  minutes  speed. 

"  These  signs  are  in  themselves  the  thing  I 
seek.  They  tell  me  that  He  rules,  that  life  sur- 
vives the  earth. 

"  An  hour  has  gone.  The  murmur  is  a  tumult. 
The  once  luminous  breathings  are  now  terrible 
bolts  of  lightning.  I  am  not  afraid  though  each 
shock  threatens  destruction.  Is  it  the  world's 
ending?  No,  for  all  is  calm  out-of-doors. 

"  The  convulsion  is  close  about  me.  It  is  awful 
beyond  words. 

"  It  is  the  message  at  last.    I  cannot  write  —  " 


409 


XXX. 

HAPPY  CAPTIVES   OF  LOVE 


"  Will  ye  wed  with  one  another  ? 
And  we  smiled  and  we  answered  '  Yea  !  '  "—  Goethe. 


7i.fRS.  FESSENDEN,  Laura  Lamont,  and 
A.  r-M.  Courtlandt  Beekman  were  resting  in 
camp  chairs  in  front  of  the  cottage  they  had 
hired  at  Biloxi,  in  the  sunniest  and  most 
characteristic  if  not  the  most  beautiful  spot  in 
our  Sunny  South.  The  lethargic  population  of 
the  village  kept  within  doors,  sleeping  in  all 
probability,  as  it  spends  most  of  its  time  in  doing, 
and  the  whole  external  prospect  was  theirs.  The 
tawny  road  beside  the  gulf,  the  stony  beach,  the 
wide  blue  expanse  of  sea,  with  Mr.  Beekman's 
shiplike  steam  yacht  nestling  on  its  smooth  sur- 
face, the  -cedar-scented  air,  the  calm,  the  inex- 
pressible restfulness  that  becomes  torpor  to  those 
who  spend  their  lives  there  —  all  this  was  theirs, 
prized  for  its  curative  effect  upon  Miss  Lamont. 
Mr.  Beekman  was  showing  Laura  a  scrapbook 

410 


The  Millionairess  Hf 

which  he  had  filled  with  the  notices  of  her  phil- 
anthropic work,  that  had  appeared  in  the  news- 
papers of  the  Hudson  River  Valley  and  New  York 
during  her  illness.  Pieced  together  they  made  a 
printed  ribbon  fifty  feet  long.  Otherwise  ar- 
ranged they  had  covered  the  top  of  his  single  bed 
in  the  Powellton  hotel.  With  joy  and  pride  he 
exhibited  the  volume  they  made  when  pasted  in 
scrapbook  formation.  Politely  she  glanced  at 
the  first  few  pages,  and  then  closed  the  book  and 
handed  it  back  to  him. 

"  Honestly,"  she  said,  "  I  do  not  like  it.  I 
would  rather  you  would  keep  the  collection,  since 
I  know  you  feel  differently  about  it.  Above  all 
else,  I  hoped  that  the  little  1  was  able  to  do  in 
Powellton  and  Wapata  might  be  carried  on 
quietly,  without  attracting  public  attention.  The 
notoriety  it  has  now  got,  and  even  the  praise  of 
the  newspapers,  distress  me  as  much  as  the 
slander  with  which  they  visited  me  at  first.  Be- 
lieve me,  Courtlandt,  if  I  should  read  all  those 
articles  I  could  never  again  feel  the  same  interest 
in  the  experiment  I  was  trying  among  my  neigh- 
bours." 

"  Why,  Laura,  you  are  most  unreasonable," 

411 


The   Millionairess 


Mrs.  Fessenden  remarked.  "  You  can  never 
have  seriously  imagined  that  you  could  carry  on 
very  quietly  a  scheme  so  extensive  and  novel. 
Besides,  you  have  no  right  to  deny  to  the  world 
the  example  and  incentive  of  such  an  undertak- 
ing." 

"  I  loathe  notoriety,"  Laura  replied,  a  trifle 
testily,  for  she  was  still  far  from  being  her  old 
self  again;  "  I  am  a  private  individual,  and  I 
hold  my  privacy  sacred.  I  cannot  help  it  if  I  am 
unreasonable;  it  is  in  my  blood  to  wish  to  live 
apart  from  newspaper  meddling  and  popular  gos- 
sip. The  trespass  of  the  public  upon  my  personal 
affairs  hurts  me  every  time  it  occurs  as  much  as 
if  the  people  walked  with  hob-nailed  shoes  over 
my  bared  heart." 

"  But  in  this  case  the  editors  are  true  to  their 
best  aims  in  exploiting  what  you  have  done," 
Beekman  insisted.  "  I  am  sure  that  when  you  are 
stronger  you  will  see  this.  To  me,  every  word 
of  this  that  you  call  '  notoriety  '  is  precious,  and 
yet  I  resent  mistaken  newspaper  enterprise  as 
much  as  any  man  alive.  I  had  been  proud  of 
you  for  your  goodness  without  realising  a  hun- 
dredth part  of  its  depth  and  breadth.  While  I 

412 


The  Millionairess 


waited  for  you  to  mend,  I  gradually  discovered 
that  you  were  the  idol  of  all  the  people  where 
you  have  your  home.  They  all  but  revere  you. 
They  were  so  angered  at  the  malicious  insinua- 
tions of  the  Van  Ness  sisters  to  the  reporters  that 
any  irresponsible  man  could  easily  have  led  them 
to  drive  those  women  out  of  Fishkill  —  even  to 
pull  down  their  house  upon  their  heads.  But  it 
was  not  until  I  read  the  papers  upon  the  subject 
that  I  knew  the  extraordinary  grounds  for  your 
popularity. 

"  See  here,"  he  continued,  "  allow  me  to  read 
the  summing  up  in  The  Sun,  of  what  its  reporter 
learned  about  your  work  :  '  It  is  the  unanimous 
testimony  in  the  two  villages  that  both  communi- 
ties have  been  raised  in  prosperity  and  comfort  to 
such  an  extent  that  all  the  shops  now  keep  entirely 
different  stocks  of  goods  from  those  they  used  to 
carry  —  more  varied  and  of  higher  quality,  and 
vastly  better  graded  than  the  goods  on  sale  in 
other  similar  villages.  Their  business  has 
changed  from  a  credit  to  a  spot-cash  basis. 
Eighty-five  new  accounts  have  been  opened  in  the 
Fishkill  bank  by  Miss  Lamont's  associates  —  or 
partners,  as  she  calls  them  —  and  a  bank  is  about 

413 


The  Millionairess 


to  be  started  in  Powellton.  Two  drinking 
saloons  have  failed  and  closed  up  ;  the  Powellton 
hotel  being  now  the  only  drinking  and  loafing 
place  for  the  two  villages.  A  small  "  slum  "  which 
existed  in  Wapata  has  been  bought  by  specula- 
tors, who  have  razed  the  buildings,  and  are  erect- 
ing a  block  of  tidy  two-story  dwellings.  As  to 
Wapata,  it  may  be  said  that  a  third  of  it  was  un- 
kempt, more  or  less  filthy,  and  inhabited  by  sloth- 
ful, dissolute,  and  disorderly  persons.  To-day 
the  drones  are  reforming  or  moving  off,  and  the 
little  quarrying  and  carpet-making  community  is 
rapidly  getting  started  on  the  way  to  become  a 
tree-lined,  flower-decked  garden  spot  like  Powell- 
ton.'  " 

"  Do  you  wonder/'  Beekman  inquired,  "  that 
such  miracles,  performed  within  a  little  more  than 
three  years,  got  publicity  in  the  press?  The  real 
wrong,  it  seems  to  me,  would  have  been  to  keep 
this  from  the  public." 

"  Really,  it  sounds  to  me  as  if  it  were  about 
some  one  else,"  Laura  remarked,  while  her  friends 
noted  the  colour  flow  to  her  face,  as  if  her  sensa- 
tions were  not  wholly  unpleasant.  "  I  do  wish 
they  had  waited  till  we  got  beyond  the  experi- 

414 


The  Millionairess  Hf 

mental  stage,  and  had  made  large  profits  and  in- 
vested them  in  parks  or  playgrounds  and  a  kinder- 
garten and  library,  as  we  are  hoping  to  do.  Such 
things,  done  by  the  plain  people  with  their  own 
money  —  as  they  will  be  done  —  would  be  better 
worth  writing  about  than  the  very  little  the  papers 
have  found  to  make  so  much  out  of." 

"  I  told  the  landlady  and  her  daughters  at  the 
hotel  that  I  was  coming  there  to  see  their  orange- 
trees,"  said  Mrs.  Fessenden,  rising  from  her 
chair ;  "  I  think  I  will  go  now.  I  will  be  with  you 
again  in  a  few  minutes." 

"  Don't  be  late  for  lunch,  Clara,"  Beekman 
called  after  her. 

"  Courtlandt,"  said  Laura,  "  I  am  glad  of  a 
chance  to  speak  to  you  alone.  I  think  I  feel  over- 
sensitive about  the  newspapers,  because  before 
this  they  have  described  me  as  if  I  were  a  frivo- 
lous, idle,  mere  society  woman.  I  have  been 
disturbed  by  criticisms  of  what  is  called  '  fash- 
ionable life,'  until  I  have  a  guilty  feeling  about 
even  my  most  informal  social  relaxations." 

"  That  is,  Bryan  Cross  has  talked  to  you,  or 
you  have  read  his  diatribes,"  Beekman  suggested. 

"  Not  he  alone,  poor  man,  by  any  means," 

415 


The  Millionairess 


Laura  answered.  "  But  you  have  read  what  he 
had  to  say;  what  do  you  think  of  his  argu- 
ments ?  " 

"  He  was  unbalanced,"  Beekman  replied.  "  He 
saw  the  evils  of  the  overvaluing  of  both  money 
and  commercial  success,  and  he  may  have  been 
right  in  his  diagnosis  of  the  situation  as  it  affects 
the  '  new  rich  '  and  the  mass  of  the  poor.  It 
would  be  natural,  where  success  in  money-making 
is  held  too  high,  that  unconcern  for  the  laggards 
in  the  race  for  wealth  should  follow.  I  only  say 
it  seems  logical;  really,  I  have  no  means  of  test- 
ing that  point.  But  his  fault  was  in  ascribing 
all  these  things  to  '  Society,'  and  in  condemning 
all  polite  circles  for  the  faults  of  a  few  of  their 
members.  A  large  number  of  those  who  imitate 
the  polite  world  may  be,  as  he  said,  living  beyond 
the  limits  of  prudence,  and  that  also  may  be  the 
direct  result  of  what  he  called  '  dollar-worship,' 
but  surely  a  very  general  cultivation  of  pride  of 
family  and  of  dignity  of  position  —  or  of  the 
ambition  to  acquire  good  manners  —  cannot  be 
harmful  in  itself." 

"You  speak  of  the  'polite  world,'"  was  Laura's 
retort,  aimed  straight  at  the  mark;  "you  admit 

416 


The  Millionairess 


its  existence,  but  is  it  not  itself  an  imitation  of  a 
monarchical  product?  " 

"  Well,  you  might  as  well  say  it  is  an  imitation 
of  what  existed  earlier  among  our  Indians,  and 
of  conditions  found  in  every  one  of  those  Russian 
villages,  which  are  among  the  purest  types  of 
democratic  institutions.  But  to  speak  more  seri- 
ously, '  Society  '  seems  to  me  the  inevitable  ex- 
pression of  the  natural  ambition  of  mankind.  In 
civilisation  certainly,  and  perhaps  in  barbarism, 
'  Society  '  is  the  organised  influence  of  the  women 
upon  the  social  body.  It  is  the  best  and  most 
powerful  expression  of  their  refining  and  gentling 
influence  —  unless  their  zeal  in  religion  comes  first. 
Our  best  society  in  New  York  was  once  proud  to 
honour  and  entertain  men  like  Washington  Irving, 
N.  P.  Willis,  Bayard  Taylor,  George  William 
Curtis,  and  Thackeray,  when  he  came  over.  It 
does  not  do  so  now  because  it  is  temporarily  in- 
fluenced by  those  who  share  the  national  tendency 
to  exaggerate  the  importance  of  material  success. 
But  that  is  only  a  phase.  It  does  not  alter  the 
bottom  fact  that  where  there  are  different  grades 
of  intelligence,  of  cultivation,  and  of  ambition 
.some  must  be  higher  than  others,  and  one  of  each 

417 


The  Millionairess 


must  cap  its  class.  My  great-grandmother  enter- 
tained Washington,  her  daughter  was  once  hostess 
to  Lafayette;  my  mother  also  brought  me  up  in 
pride  of  our  standing  among  the  leaders  of  social 
life  and  the  defenders  of  the  public  welfare  in 
New  York.  I  hope,  Laura,  that  my  wife  will 
shine  there  as  a  hostess,  as  a  champion  of  the 
dignity  of  social  position  and  as  a  patriotic  Amer- 
ican. I  am  very  sure  that  she  will  never  allow  her 
sympathies  for  the  unsuccessful  to  be  weakened, 
and  it  may  be  that  the  other  so-called  fashionable 
folk  will  copy  a  few  pages  out  of  her  book." 

"  I  cannot  imagine  myself  your  wife,  dear,"  she 
said.  "  I  am  not  worthy,  Courtlandt.  You  shall 
not  ever  say  I  deceived  you  in  that  respect." 

'  You  think  yourself  unworthy  of  such  a  mere 
Arab  as  I,"  he  said,  "  while  I  know  I  am  not  fit 
to  share  your  beautiful  life.  I'll  tell  you  what  : 
we  will  leave  it  to  Clara,  and  do  as  she  says." 

"  No,  no  !  "  she  cried,  in  pretended  terror, 
clinging  to  his  coat  as  if  to  hold  him  near  her. 
"  She  is  a  woman,  and  can  see  through  and 
through  me.  She  would  decide  against  me,  and 
I  should  lose  you  —  and  have  nothing  left  but  to 
die." 

418 


The   Millionairess  H£ 

At  Laura's  suggestion  both  rose  and  walked 
along  the  beach. 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Percy  Russell  this 
morning,"  said  she.  "  She  reports  my  mother 
very  happy  with  her,  and  I  am  sure  she  is  so, 
for  she  is  very  fond  of  Mrs.  Russell,  who,  in  her 
turn,  is  all  patience  and  goodness  with  poor 
mamma." 

"  What  other  news  is  in  her  letter  ?  " 

"  Oh,  only  that  my  cousin  Archie  is  feeling  the 
arms  of  his  chair  at  the  Madison  Club  develop 
muscles  and  enclose  him  in  a  more  than  human 
grasp,  against  which  he  is  not  disposed  to  strug- 
gle, since  he  has  himself  grown  to  be  little  better 
than  another  bit  of  the  club  furniture.  Oh,  yes, 
and  she  says  that  a  grand  '  Boozers'  night '  is 
being  arranged  to  welcome  us  back  to  town." 

"Have  you  heard  from  Tonette?"  Beekman 
asked. 

"  Not  since  I  told  you  that  she  wrote  to  say 
that  I  need  not  fear  she  would  not  make  a  good 
wife  to  a  clergyman.  I  still  have  my  doubts, 
just  the  same.  They  will  set  the  day  for  their 
wedding  whenever  they  are  certain  I  will  be  at 
home  to  attend  it." 

419 


The   Millionairess 


"  Here  comes  my  sister,"  Beekman  said. 

"  I  am  going  to  ask  her  to  let  me  call  her  Clara," 
Laura  answered. 

"  Bless  you,"  Courtlandt  said,  "  that  means 
that  you  have  at  last  put  aside  your  doubts,  and 
will  acknowledge  yourself  my  own,  my  precious. 
Why  will  you  not  tell  me  so,  and  let  us  both  make 
Clara  as  happy  as  we  shall  then  become  ?  " 

"  When  I  think  of  being  anything  else,  it  is 
like  death.  I  know  I  am  not  worthy,  yet  I  know, 
too,  that  I  am  yours,  Courtlandt.  If  I  have  not 
said  the  words  '  I  love  you/  it  is  because  I  love 
you  too  much  and  have  been  frightened  by  it. 
Oh,  you  cannot  know  how  much  I  love  you." 

The  place  where  they  stood  was  sheltered  from 
the  road,  and  only  the  waters  of  the  gulf,  glaring 
in  the  sun  like  a  huge  deadeye,  commanded  a 
view  of  them.  Laura  hesitated,  looked  about  her 
with  a  quick  sweep  of  her  eyes,  and  flung  herself 
in  his  arms. 

"  Oh,  I  have  been  so  lonely  —  so  all  alone," 
said  she,  and  he  drew  her  closer  to  him. 

Her  exclamation  was  the  feminine  summary  of 
a  quick  retrospect  of  her  maiden  career.  She  was 
on  the  point  of  confessing  the  whole  of  her  heart's 

420 


"  TTE   KfSSKD   HER   LIGHTLY,  AND   THE    TOUCH  OF 
**     HIS  LIPS—  LIFTED  HER   SOUL" 


The  Millionairess  Hr 

little  story,  and  yet,  as  she  thought  it  over  — 
thought  of  Archie  Paton  and  York  Stone  —  she 
saw  that  she  must  not  risk  his  misunderstanding 
her.  Fortunately,  her  conscience  fully  cleared  her. 
She  felt  so  drawn  to  Courtlandt  that  she  believed 
herself  in  love.  She  had  no  doubt  of  it,  though 
others  might  reason  that  her  feelings  were  wholly 
a  blending  of  admiration  and  respect.  "  No,"  she 
told  herself,  "  I  will  not  throw  a  cloud  over  our 
bliss.  I  did  not  love  Archie  or  Mr.  Stone.  They 
cannot  have  imagined  such  a  thing.  I  never 
could  have  given  myself  to  any  one  but  Courtlandt 
—  my  lover  and  my  beloved."  Thus  she  contra- 
dicted the  first  promptings  of  her  conscience  and, 
to  end  the  confusion,  threw  herself  in  Court- 
landt's  arms,  crying: 

"  Oh,  I  have  been  so  lonely !  so  all  alone !  " 
And  as  he  drew  her  close  to  him,  he  bent  his 
head  and  kissed  her  —  not  with  a  passionate  kiss 
which  would  have  taken  advantage  of  her  sur- 
render and  would  have  wounded  her  like  a  red 
quivering  mark  of  a  lash  across  her  soul.  He 
kissed  her  lightly,  and  the  touch  of  his  lips  on 
her  brow  lifted  her  soul,  like  her  reverential 
thoughts  of  marriage,  until  it  trembled  with 

421 


The  Millionairess 


misgivings  —  as  well  as  with  delight.  With  such 
love,  after  having  yielded  to  it  as  she  had  now 
done,  there  was  no  more  fear  for  the  future  in  her 
heart  than  there  was  in  his. 

"  You  shall  never  be  lonely  again,"  he  said. 


THE    END. 


422 


